A  FAMOUS  VICTORY 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


1  But  what  good  came  of  it  at  last?" 

Quoth  little  Peterkin. 
'Why,  that  I  cannot  tell,"  said  he: 
"  But  't  was  a  famous  victory." 


CHICAGO : 

JANSEN,  McCLURG  &  COMPANY.  ^      \*    . 
1880. 


COPYRIGHT : 

JANSEN,  McCumG  &  COMPANY. 
A.  D.  1880. 


• 
7 


a& : 


-PS 
79  / 


CONTENTS. 


I.  A  Short  Journey        ...  5 

II.  A  Long  Journey    .        .        .  .12 

III.  The  Complete  Letter-writer        .  18 

IY.  The  Major's  Agricultural  Tastes  .      32 

V.  The  Major  at  Home    ...  39 

VI.  Agents  Wanted— Apply  Within  .       52 

VII.  The  Net  and  The  Bird        .        .  66 

VIII.  The  Temptation       .        .         .  .78 

IX.  The  Struggle        ....  92 

X.  The  Conquest  ....       97 

XL  Winifred's  Canvass     ...  104 

XII.  On  the  Bridge         .        .        .  .115 

XIII.  Counting  the  Vote       .        .         .  125 

XIV.  An  Unaccountable  Vote           .  .     136 
XV.  Keward  of  Merit          ...  144 

XVI.  "A  New  Deal"       .        .        .  .155 

XVII.  Bunkery,  the  Statesman       .         .  161 

XVIII.  Enlightening  the  Public          .  .    '176 
(3) 

753404 


4 

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER 

PAGE 

XIX. 

Fighting  Monopolies 

186 

XX. 

Perceval's  Dream 

195 

XXL 

A  Fatal  Illness 

208 

XXII. 

An  Interesting  Dispatch     . 

217 

XXIII. 

A  Mere  Newspaper  Sensation  . 

223 

XXIY. 

Detecting  the  Guilty     . 

227 

XXY. 

A  Promising  Artist 

240 

XXYI. 

The  Private  Hospital    . 

252 

XXVII. 

The  Missing  Link 

261 

XXVIII. 

Doing  Penance     .... 

270 

XXIX. 

A  House  of  Kefuge  . 

277 

XXX. 

In  the  Presence     .... 

285 

XXXI. 

How  Water  Kan  Up  Hill 

294 

XXXII. 

Getting  Even        .... 

299 

XXXIII. 

A  Long  Friendship  Ended 

308 

XXXIV. 

Social  Equality     . 

313 

XXXV. 

Mr.  Bunkery's  Victory      . 

319 

XXXVI. 

Jephthah's  Daughter    .        . 

330 

XXXVII. 

Playing  with  Fire     . 

336 

XXXVIII. 

The  Enemy  Conquers  . 

348 

XXXIX. 

The  End    '. 

357 

A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER   I. 
A  SHORT  JOURNEY. 

IN  the  early  summer  of  18—  a  score  of  railway 
trains  between  the  Atlantic  sea-board  and  the  Mis- 
sissippi, were  hurrying  along  the  threads  of  an  iron 
cobweb,  and  carrying  to  the  center  thereof  crowds 
of  party  politicians.  The  passengers  aboard  one  of 
them,  might,  through  the  glass  sides  of  its  "  palace  " 
cars,  have  beheld  an  ever-changing  panorama  of  forest, 
rock,  and  distant  mountains,  blending  their  blue  relief 
with  the  tints  of  the  sky.  A  midnight  shower  had 
endowed  the  landscape  with  fresh  charms  and  seemed 
to  have  washed  the  firmament  itself  to  a  crystal  clear- 
ness. 

As  the  train  curved  sharply  round  the  mountains, 
the  morning  sun  blazed  in,  first  on  this  side,  now  on 
that,  shattering  its  beams  into  myriad  fragments 
upon  the  mirrors  and  metallic  ornaments  within. 
Those  who  trust  their  senses  only,  would  have  imag- 
ined it  a  mighty  pendulum  swinging  in  the  heavens, 
or  a  comet  playing  hide-and-seek  among  the  moun- 
(5) 


6  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

tains.  It  whisked  behind  great  heights  casting  shad- 
ows broad  as  a  German  duchy  athwart  the  dripping 
forests.  It  stared  down  the  sloping  aisles  of  the 
water  gaps;  then  was  hopelessly  extinguished  in  the 
rock-hewn  railroad  "  cuts,"  whose  sombre-tinted  walls 
oozed  with  the  overflow  of  ice-cold  fountains. 

The  invisible  scene-shifters  of  this  lordly  theatre 
were  capricious  beyond  all  reckoning.  One  minute 
they  rushed  forward,  a  cluster  of  white  houses,  look- 
ing, in  the  far-off  "clearing"  like  a  nestful  of  eggs; 
the  next  they  transformed  it  into  a  winding  stream ; 
into  sloping  fields  green  with  young  oats;  into  a  red- 
covered  bridge,  to  the  eye  no  bigger  than  a  mouse- 
trap, alluring  the  horses,  which,  no  bigger  than  mice, 
crawled  along  the  yellow  road.  "Without  warning, 
they  shot  it  all  from  sight  behind  a  screen  of  forest; 
or  of  boulders  down  which  cascades  leaped;  or  of 
ragged  precipices  adorned  with  lonely  evergreens,  or 
clinging  birches. 

But  the  patriots  on  the  train  barely  glanced  at  "  the 
pictures  painted  mile  on  mile,"  partly  because,  like 
Dr.  Johnson,  "  they  never  heeded  such  nonsense," 
chiefly  because  they  were  too  seriously  interested  in 
"  the  whole  of  our  broad  land  "  to  waste  attention  on  a 
few  paltry  acres  of  scenery.  For  nearly  all  were  dele- 
gates or  interested  spectators,  on  their  way  to  their  party 
convention,  called  at  a  self-important  western  city, 
whose  name  is  impartially  omitted  here. 

Most  of  them  were  clad  in  the  conventional  dark 
suit  which  lends  individual  dignity  to  public  men,  but 
which,  in  conventions  where,  like  insects,  they  break 


A  SHORT  JOURNEY. 


groups  and  swarm  again,  increases  that  ravenous  mien 
common  to  small  animals  running  to  and  fro  in  search 
of  sustenapce. 

While  the  politicians  affirmed,  denied,  begged,  bul- 
lied, until  they  yawned  with  fatigue,  the  morning  grew 
into  noon,  and  the  voice  of  hunger  out-clamored  even 
the  syren  notes  of  the  Goddess  of  Liberty  ;  for,  in  re- 
lieving the  people  of  the  toil  and  vexation  of  select- 
ing their  rulers,  the  American  party  "  worker  "  could 
not,  were  he  earning  his  honest  living,  labor  harder  or 
more  faithfully. 

Two  porters  in  uniform  brought  from  the  pantry  at 
the  end  of  the  car  salad,  sandwiches,  oranges,  bananas, 
and  champagne,  and  set  them  on  the  little  tables. 

This  attracted  the  attention  of  an  Irish  doctor,  whose 
business  was  "  politics,"  medicine  his  recreation,  and 
the  fervent  heat  of  whose  energy,  as  if  not  finding  full 
vent  below  in  voice  and  gesture,  burst  through  above 
in  the  blaze  of  his  hair  and  beard.  He  was  in  the  act 
of  committing  verbal  assault,  with  intent  to  persuade, 
upon  an  equally  fiery  merchant  of  American  nativity, 
who  knew  which  candidate  "his  folks  wanted  better 'n 
any  Castle  Garden  gradooate  could  tell  'em — leastwise 
one  that  did  n't  bring  nothing  into  the  country  but 
imppidence  and  a  suit  o'  clothes." 

"An'  all  ye  brought  was  the  ampudence,  like  ivery 
one  borrun  here,"  retorted  the  doctor;  whereat  there 
was  a  laugh,  while  the  doctor  dived  into  his  seat  at 
the  table,  and  the  square  under-jaw,  always  at  the  ser- 
vice of  his  adopted  country,  wagged  a  stiff  brush  of 
chin  whiskers  until  his  fierce  hunger  was  abated. 


8  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

An  ardent  statesman,  with  blue-black  hair  and  an 
enormous  bristling  moustache, was  laboring  in  great  ex- 
citement for  his  State's  "  favorite  son."  His  big  veins 
swelled  like  hose  at  a  fire,  and,  by  moistening  his  hot 
face  with  a  flood  of  perspiration,  perhaps  prevented 
spontaneous  combustion. 

"  He'll  go  out  of  my  State  with  fifty  thousand  ma- 
jority," said  this  almost  livid  statesman  to  a  Pennsyl- 
vania giant  whom  he  was  trying  to  alarm,  and  who, 
wrapped  in  a  mainsail  of  linen  "  duster,"  displayed  on 
his  broad  shoulders  two  large  maps  of  the  water- 
courses of  a  previous  perspiration  shed  in  behalf  of 
his  own  "  favorite  son." 

"  Do  you  believe  it?"  asked  the  giant. 

"Believe it!  No,  I  don't  believe  it,"  echoed  the 
swarthy  statesman,  and,  with  his  forearm,  violently 
pumped  the  emphasis  into  his  outstretched  finger;  "I 
know  it!" 

He  raised  the  handle  again,  but  catching  sight  of  the 
luncheon,  dropped  into  his  seat,  and  drank  off  two  or 
three  glasses  of  champagne. 

Back  of  him  sat  a  tall,  thin  delegate,  with  smoothly 
shaven  face,  who  never  suffered  his  voice  to  rise  above 
or  fall  below  the  level  of  his  dignity,  but,  when  in- 
terrupted with  roaring  protest,  cut  short  his  sentence, 
and,  tranquility  being  restored,  calmly  took  up  again 
the  thread  of  his  discourse  where  the  shears  of  impa- 
tience had  clipped  it. 

At  the  same  table  was  a  dapper  little  man,  who, 
through  the  apertures  left  by  larger  ones,  always 
squeezed  to  the  center  of  every  group;  and  a  "boss" 


A  SHORT  JOURNEY. 


whose  bead,  if  there  be  truth  in  phrenology,  might, 
with  its  combative  and  acquisitive  bumps  have  been 
mistaken  for  a  boy's  pocket  at  the  height  of  the  "top" 
season. 

Opposite,  was  a  graceful,  self-regarding  gentleman, 
with  smooth  hands,  English  side- whiskers,  an  intelli- 
gent forehead,  and  an  aristocratic  nose  which  disdained 
caucuses  and  caucus  mandates,  though  its  proprietor 
never  refused  obedience  to  either,  and  whose  disgust 
with  the  offensive  table-manners  near  it,  was  just  vis- 
ible in  the  sensitive  play  of  its  nostrils. 

Picturesque  among  them,  with  ruddy  cheeks  and 
snow-white  hair,  sat  Israel  Stratton,  who,  traveling  for 
pleasure,  took  no  part  in  the  bustle,  except  when  an  ac- 
quaintance accosted  him. 

"Well,  Stratton,  whom  are  you  going  to  vote  for  this 
time  2"  asked  an  ex-governor,  a  grizzled,  farmer-like 
person,  sitting  in  the  chair  next  him  and  peeling  a  ba- 
nana as  he  spoke. 

"  That  depends  upon  whether  yon  people  do  what  I 
suppose  you'll  do  next  week." 

"  What  do  you  think  we'll  do  ? " 

"  Nominate  my  townsman,  Brewster,  declare  war 
on  the  banks,  throw  a  sop  to  the  inflationists,  and  stir 
up  every  loafer  against  property  and  order.  A  man 
of  your  brains  must  feel  sick  at  the  thought  of  it." 

"  O,  yes,  you  know  how  I  feel,  for  in  that  case  you'll 
have  to  stand  by  some  old  war  horse." 

"  It's  a  choice  of  evils,"  remarked  Stratton,  "but 
the}-  always  stick  to  us  or  we  stick  to  them  in  this 
country;  and  elsewhere,  too,  for  that  matter.  People 


10  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

take  it  quite  as  a  matter  of  course  that  a  man  who 
Comes  out  strong  in  stormy  weather  is  the  man  that  is 
wanted  in  peace  ;  that  sea-captains  make  good  archi- 
tects, and  cannon  are  the  best  cook-stoves.  Twenty- 
five  years  from  now,'  somebody  in  Iowa  or  Michigan 
will  still  be  voting  for  the  Savior  of  His  Country  just 
as  in  Pennsylvania  they  used  to  vote  for  that  patriotic 
rowdy,  Andrew  Jackson,  long  after  he  had  — 

"  Turned  to  Clay,  so  to  speak,"  interrupted  the  dap- 
per little  man  in  the  chair  opposite,  who  always  looked 
around  for  a  laugh  as  he  spoke. 

The  ex-governor  made  no  direct  reply,  but  after  ris- 
ing, lighting  a  cigar  and  sitting  down  again,  said,  with 
an  almost  imperceptible  grimace,  "  Yes,  I'm  afraid 
we'll  have  to  take  JBrewster,  though  he's  a  bitter  dose; 
But  it's  money  we  want,  and  he's  rich  as  mud." 

"Down  my  way,"  remarked  Stratton,  "they  say 
dirty  water  '11  fetch  the  pump  when  clean  can't  be  had, 
and  I  guess  you  're  all  too  thirsty  to  be  particular." 

"  Well,"  said  the  ex-governor  with  a  resigned  air, 
"  after  you  've  got  quite  done  abusing  Brewster,  he^a 
the  smartest  man  in  the  United  States" 

"  O,  yes,  he'll  admit  that  himself,"  said  Stratton 
shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"  But,  seriously,  other  men  are  afraid  of  him.  He 
never  wastes  time  in  self-defense,  but  gives  the  other  fel- 
low all  he  wants  picking  the  shot  out  of  his  own  skin." 

"He's  shrewd  enough  to  know,"  said  Mr.  Stratton, 
"  that  a  great  many  people  will  take  the  smart  man 
for  an  honest  one,  if  he  can  make  them  believe  the 
other  fellows  are  scamps." 


A  SHORT  JOURNEY.  •  11 

' "  I  take  a  good  deal  of  stock  in  the  Major,"  said  the 
dapper  little  man,  spinning  the  stem  of  his  glass  in 
his  fingers;  "  if  he  goes  to  the  bad  place,  as  his  enemies 
say  he  will,  first  thing  they'll  know,  he'll  be  starting 
a  skating  rink,  and  ruining  the  business  of  the  original 
proprietor." 

"  Well,  the  country's  made  up  of  all  sorts  of  people," 
said  the  ex-governor,  philosophically,  "  and  you  must 
take  them  as  you  find  them." 

"  You  didn't  treat  your  swamp  farm  in  that  way. 
You  improved  it." 

"  There  comes  Carroll,"  said  the  ex-governor. 


12  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  LONG  JOURNEY. 

THE  door  opened,  admitting  from  the  forward  car  a 
gentleman,  whose  tall,  well-outlined  form  and  swing- 
ing, firm-stepping  gait,  seemed  to  lay  assured  claim  to 
his  full  share  of  the  planet. 

Though  past  thirty  years  of  age,  his  face  was  as 
round  and  fresh  as  a  child's.  Wherever  he  went,  his 
genial  social  climate  quickly  melted  a  space  about  him. 
He  was  the  devoted  adherent  of  Brewster's  rival  for 
the  nomination,  Elliot  Wharton,  which,  though  not 
his  real  name,  will  answer  the  purpose  of  identifying 
him.  Carroll  was  the  acknowledged  leader  of  that 
gentleman's  forces  at  the  convention,  such  as  they  were, 
and  "his  sanguine  expectation  as  to  the  result,  had 
led  him  to  prepare  a  witty  and  brilliant  speech,  not 
only  in  nominating  Wharton,  but  another  quite  as 
eloquent  in  celebration  of  his  triumph. 

"  Hullo,  Carroll!  we  were  just  talking  about  Brews- 
ter's chances,"  said  the  ex-governor. 

"Well,  if  a  man's  time  is  of  no  value  to  him,  I 
suppose  he  might  as  well  spend  it  talking  about  that 
as  any  other  creature  of  his  imagination." 

"If  you  could  only  dispose  of  him  as  easily  as 


A  LONG  JOURNEY.  13 

that  at  the  convention,  he  would  n't  come  very  near 
to  the  nomination  I  admit,"  said  the  ex-governor. 

"  He'll  come  as  near  as  the  man  came  to  making 
twice  two  equal  five, — within  one  of  it,"  replied  Car- 
roll. 

"  "Why,  if  you  've  figured  it  down  as  close  as  that,  it 
makes  a  pretty  good  show  for  Brewster." 

"  Yes,  if  Wharton  is  n't  the  one,  Brewster  will  be," 
said  Carroll.  "  It's  all  nonsense  talking  about  Brews- 
ter's  chances.  His  noise  has  nothing  to  do  with  if." 

"The  steamboat  that's  tied  up  and  blowing  off 
raises  the  racket,  not  the  one  making  ^its  trip,"  com- 
mented the  dapper  little  man. 

"  I  must  have  a  paper,"  said  Mr.  Stratton  as  the 
newsboy  came  in.  "Good  Heavens!"  he  exclaimed 
as  his  eye  glanced  down  the  financial  columns,  "gold 
has  gone  up  five  per  cent." 

An  exclamation  of  surprise  went  around  the  circle. 

"  It  has  more  faith  in  Brewster's  nomination  than 
you  have,"  said  Mr.  Stratton. 

"  It's  only  a  flurry,"  said  Carroll  with  assumed  care- 
lessness. 

"It  is  no  wonder,"  continued  Mr.  Stratton,  "with 
millions  of  silver  in  the  country,  and  constantly  increas- 
ing, Europe  recovering  from  the  hard  times,  and  threats 
to  give  Congress  sole  control  over  the  issue  of  paper! 
I  sometimes  think  I  'd  leave  the  country  along  with 
the  gold,  if  I  could." 

At  this  moment  the  sharp,  short  shrieks  of  the  lo- 
comotive, the  sudden  grinding  of  the  air-brakes,  and 
the  almost  painful  jerking  of  the  fast-checked  train 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


thrilled  the  passengers  with  alarm,  as  the  cars  pulled  up 
at  a  little  station  in  the  mountain  solitudes,  at  which  the 
express  trains  never  stopped.  There  was  a  slight  stir 
among  three  or  four  men  in  homespun  on  the  little 
platform,  as  the  conductor  came  back  from  the  tele- 
graph room,  and  sprang  on  the  train: 

"Stopped  for  some  Brewster  delegates!"  exclaimed 
Carroll,  nodding  toward  the  group  on  the  platform. 

"A  dispatch  for  Mr.  Carroll,"  said  the  conductor, 
excitedly. 

Carroll  opened  the  envelope  in  such  haste  that  he 
tore  the  message  in  two.  Casting  one  glance  at  it, 
he  let  it  drop  and  fell  back  into  his  seat. 

"Is  there  an  answer?"  asked  the  conductor. 

Carroll  shook  his  head,  and,  as  the  train  moved  on, 
motioned  to  Mr.  Stratton  to  pick  up  the  telegram. 
He  did  so  and  read  aloud  these  words: 

"Wharton  died,  in  his  library  chair,  just  after 
breakfast." 

In  spite  of  the  increasing  clatter  of  the  train,  one 
perceived  a  solemn  stillness  in  the  car,  and  might 
almost  have  heard  the  echo  of  Edmund  Burke's 
words  concerning  "the  worthy  gentleman  who  has 
been  snatched  from  us  in  the  middle  of  the  contest, 
while  his  desires  were  as  warm  and  his  hopes  as  eager 
as  ours." 

Much  of  Carroll's  hope  and  ambition  would  be  bur- 
ied with  the  coffin  of  his  chief,  and  with  bowed  head 
he  walked  forward  to  his  own  car,  saying,  with  an  ac- 
cent of  sincerity: 

"  I  would  gladly  have  died  for  him  " 


A  LONG  JOURNEY.  15 

"  If  Wharton  bad  been  elected,  be  expected  to  be 
in  tbe  cabinet  or  bave  a  foreign  mission,"  said  tbe  ex- 
governor. 

"A  very  hopeful  temperament  that!"  sniffed  tbe 
dapper  little  man;  "he'd  invite  you  to  his  champagne 
supper  while  setting  out  his  grape-vines." 

Though  knowing  that  this  intervention  had  assured 
them  the  victory,  the  partisans  of  Brewster  were  as 
decorous  as  possible.  Perhaps  they  felt  that  their  op- 
ponent had  been  swept  away  by  a  tide  which  even 
their  leader  could  not  beat  back,  and  from  which  at 
some  time  he  could  not  retreat. 

"It's  a  national  calamity,"  said  Mr.  Stratton;  "but 
then,  he  never  would  have  been  nominated.  He  was 

too  d fair,  as  somebody  said,  awhile  ago.  We've 

not  many  such  men,  and  they  are  esteemed  much  as  a 
missionary  is  in  the  Cannibal  Islands — excellent  to 
make  game  of." 

"  Well,  now,  do  you  know  I  'd  as  soon  be  in  the  hot 
place  on  a  July  day  without  a  fan  as  to  hear  a  grown 
man  go  on  in  that  style,"  said  Congressman  Bnnkery, 
from  the  State  of  "  Injanner." 

From  an  aperture  which,  in  a  freak  of  indulgence, 
Nature  had  bestowed  for  the  double  service  of  mouth 
and  tobacco-pouch,  he  dashed,  as  he  spoke,  an  amber 
sea  upon  the  spotless  concave  of  the  porcelain  spit- 
toon. 

"  Wharton  didn't  believe  his  own  party  was  born 
without  sin,  and  that  all  others  are  totally  depraved," 
continued  Mr.  Stratton. 

"  Yes,  I've  heard  a  good  deal  of  that  nonsense  in 


16  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

my  day,"  said  Bunkery,  taking  down  his  legs  from 
the  seat  in  front  of  him  ;  "  it  mostly  comes  from  Sun- 
day School  teachers,  and  fellows  that  waste  their  time 
playing  on  the  piano,  when  there's  po'ker  and  Cali- 
forny  Jack.  Wharton  was  one  of  those  namby-pam- 
by chaps.  As  yon  say,  there's  mighty  few  of  them, 
and  that's  lucky.  Just  when  things  are  squally,  and 
you  want  to  belay  your  best  rope,  they  '11  let  it  slip 
back  on  you  by  admitting  that  the  party  sometimes 
does  wrong  and  makes  mistakes.  Pd  ship  'em  along 
with  the  heathen  Chinee.  'Old  Zach,'  as  they  used  to 
call  him,  was  my  idee  of  a  leader.  No  bread-and-milk 
poultices  for  him.  He  always  soothed  the  other  fel- 
lows with  a  curry  comb.  'T  was  worth  a  trip  to  Wash- 
ington, just  to  hear  him  say  '  double-dyed  traitor '  at 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  'T  would  set  you  up  for 
six  months.  The  boys  fairly  adored  him.  There  's 
mighty  few  such  men  now-a-days;  so  the  country 's 
playing  out.  Yon  never  hear  them  admit,  even  if  they 
believe  it,  that  the  other  party  ever  did  a  good  thing 
or  that  there  are  honest  patriots  in  it.  No  sir,  they 
know  better.  They  know  your  gov'ment  could  n't  run 
a  one-horse  town  down  in  Arkansaw  on  any  such  prin- 
cipull  as  that.  No,  sir.  I  b'leeve  in  the  old  doctrine 
that  a  hoss-thief  always  belongs  to  the  other  party. 
Then  there  's  that  other  nonsense  of  Wharton  and  his 
kidney — about  runnin'  the  gov'ment  on  business  prin- 
ci-pulls,  by  keepin'  the  boys  always  in  office,  if  they 
behave  themselves.  'T  would  ruin  the  country  if  it 
could  be  put  into  operation.  Lucky  it's  such  cussed 
nonsense,  it  '11  never  get  a  foothold  here.  If  we  've  got 


RELEASED  BY 
PUBLIC 

A  LONG  JOURNEY. 


to  go  to  Yew-rup  for  idees,  we  might  as  well  shut  up 
shop,  and  be  done  with  it." 

"  His  bark 's  worse  'n  his  bite,"  said  the  ex-governor, 
and  filling  glasses  afresh  they  drank  to  the  success, 
whichever  party  might  be  in  power,  of  these  funda- 
mental principles  of  government. 

Mr.  Stratton  made  no  reply,  for  just  as  Bunkery 
finished,  he  got  off  at  his  destination. 

Even  though  men's  hearts  stop  beating,  politics 
and  railroad  trains  must  go  on,  and  the  next  morning 
the  politicians  arrived  at  the  city  of  the  convention. 
In  consequence  of  Wharton's  death,  the  opposition  to 
Brewster,  one  of  the  nation's  millionaires  in  full  con- 
trol of  the  party  machine,  broke  down,  and  his  nom- 
ination lacked  even  the  applause  which  conflict  con- 
fers on  victory.  The  party  "  pointed  with  pride  to  its 
past,"  and  adjourned  to  the  day  of  judgment — in. the 
following  November. 


IS  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE  COMPLETE  LETTER- WRITER. 

THOUGH  a  manufacturer  in  the  small  city  of  Rox- 
bury,  Conn.,where  he  usually  spent  the  summer  and  fall, 
Major  Brewster,  for  political  and  other  reasons,  owned 
a  residence  on  the  famous  Bonanza  Square,  in  the  city 
of  New  York.  This  opulent  quadrangle  is  so  suc- 
cessfully secluded  from  the  vulgar  gaze  that  those  who 
have  never  dared  peep  into  its  precincts,  currently  be- 
lieve it  paved  with  something  of  the  metallic  luxury 
that  emblazons  the  streets  of  the  New  Jerusalem.  Its 
Eminent  Respectability  adds  lustre  to  names  oftener 
seen  or  heard  in  the  newspaper  and  on  "  the  street "  than 
in  the  tax-lists,  where,  of  all  places,  the  wealth  of  Bo- 
nanza Square  is  never  vulgarly  flaunted,  nor  the  hum- 
bler tax-payer  abashed  with  rows  of  its  swollen  and 
supercilious  ciphers.  Some  of  its  residents,  retiring 
from  the  business  by  which  in  earlier  days  they  ac- 
quired their  fortunes,  basking  in  the  gentle  warmth  of 
life's  Indian  summer,  contrived,  by  hobbies  adapted 
to  their  tastes  and  .habits,  to  divert  their  venerable 
minds  and  still  attract  the  public  interest. 

One  amused  his  declining  years  by  collecting  rail- 
road bric-a-brac — lines  that  went  nowhere  in  particu- 
lar and  brought  nothing  back — stumps,  splinters,  and 


THE  COMPLETE  LETTER-WRITER.  19 

other  useless  fragments  of  transportation,  whose  in- 
genious dovetailings  into  the  huge  main  systems  filled 
up  the  time  of  the  virtuoso,  and  saved  him  from  the  cark 
of  idleness;  while  his  neighbor,  having  a  distaste  for 
railway  curiosities,  was  engrossed  in  the  cultivation  of 
telegraph  posts,  industriously  setting  them  out  along 
the  public  highways,  and  watching,  with  tender  solic- 
itude, the  increased  budding  of  their  green-glass  bulbs 
and  the  yearly  growth  of  their  vigorous  cross-pieces. 

Unless  it  were  in  the  heavier  stone  balusters  on  the 
front  steps,  the  greater  massiveness  and  depth  of  color 
of  the  doors  leading  into  the  tiled  and  frescoed  vesti- 
bule, and  in  a  business  office  in  the  rear,  accessible  by 
a  side  entrance,  Major  Brewster's  house  did  not  great- 
ly differ  from  his  neighbors.  So  far  as  he  was  con- 
cerned at  the  present  time,  this  office  was  the  princi- 
pal part  of  the  house,  for  it  was  here  that  he  was  per- 
sonally conducting  his  presidential  campaign. 

It  was  a  July  morning,  18 — ,  and  the  Major  was  at 
his  desk.  His  big,  round  head,  well-covered  with 
long,  thick  locks  of  "  sable  silvered,"  was  set  on  broad 
shoulders,  which  readily  wedged  their  way  to  the 
front,  and  bore  with  ease  the  burdens  of  life.  Though 
tall  and  heavy,  he  so  compactly  disposed  of  two  hun- 
dred pounds  about  him,  that  a  casual  observer  would 
have  much  underestimated  his  weight.  His  face  was 
gnarly  but  massive,  seamed  with  strong  lines  about 
the  eyes  and  across  the  forehead.  His  nose  belonged 
to  no  particular  order  of  architecture,  but,  like  him- 
self, was  mutinous  and  defiant  of  classification.  His 
jaws,  like  a  rock  on  a  dangerous  coast,  seemed  to  pro- 


20  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

ject  their  iron  firmness  toward  those  who,  during  his 
stormy  moods,  ventured  too  near.  His  eyebrows 
overhung,  like  window-caps,  his  large,  keen  eyes, 
which  in  calm  times  were  a  handsome  gray,  but  under 
excitement  grew  dark  with  the  enlargement  of  the 
pupil.  All  these  features,  or  rather,  this  combination 
of  features,  which  separately  were  far  from  comely,  com- 
posed a  strong  and  attractive  face.  Many  even  thought 
him  a  handsome  man,  though  his  vanity  wras  not  of  a 
sort  to  be  wounded  by  calling  him  otherwise. 

His  dress  was,  designedly,  so  sober,  unostentatious 
and  common- place  as  scarcely  to  warrant  description. 
Believing  that  he  had  thereby  reinforced  the  strong  and 
aggressive  temper,  the  audacity  and  the  enterprise  on 
which  he  depended  for  success,  he  strove  to  repress, 
rather  than  excite  attention  to  his  outward  personality 
and  surroundings. 

JEe  was  more  than  a  clever  man  ;  he  was  a  work- 
man-like man,  never  shirking  the  slavish  drudgery  of 
details  nor  disdaining  the  most  trivial  assistance. 
One  vote,  one  man,  was  one  vote  or  one  man  more 
than  he  could  with  reasonable  diligence  afford  to  lose. 
He  was  the  most  famous  party  organizer  in  the  coun- 
try. He  put  his  hand  on  the  vast  "machine"  and  it 
responded  to  his  touch  in  Oregon  as  well  as  in  Con- 
necticut. He  was  strong  and  crafty,  with  a*  faculty 
for  binding  to  his  interests  those  who  most  disliked 
him.  When  infused  by  the  good  humor  and  high 
animal  spirits  of  the  man,  his  temper  was  attractive 
and  almost  sunny.  Men  were  drawn  to  him  by  an 
amused  interest  in  his  buoyant  and  unoffending  self. 


THE  COMPLETE  LETTER-WRITER.  21  - 

complacency,  in  his  readiness  at  repartee,  in  his  fund 
of  anecdotes,  in  his  happy  dramatic  knack  at  vigorous 
portrayal  of  both  personage  and  circumstance. 

Especially  diverting  was  his  appearance  in  farce 
after  taking  the  principal  part  in  a  pretended  tragedy. 
During  the  heated  dehate  of  Senate  Chamber  or  Rep- 
resentatives Hall,  his  voice  would  be  the  loudest  and 
hottest  in  "  stirring  up "  his  opponents  to  indiscre- 
tion of  speech  and  in  denouncing  them  as  state  crim- 
inals deserving  of  ignominious  punishment.  In  half 
an  hour  he  would  be  the  center  of  a  roaring  group, 
many  of  whom,  now  convulsed  with  mirth,  were  the 
recent  victims  of  his  imaginary  guillotine  and  the 
resuscitated  traitors  he  had  unceremoniously  hung 
upon  his  fictitious  gallows.  In  his  private  moods 
almost  everybody  liked  him;  in  his  public  attitude 
he  was  adored  by  un thoughtful  partisans,  careless  of 
all  defects  and  immerging  all  scruples  and  criticisms 
in  their  admiration  for  the  versatility  of  his  mind 
and  the  brilliancy  of  his  resources.  He  had  some- 
thing of  that  quality  which,  in  "the  bright  lexicon" 
of  the  American  politician,  is  defined  as  "magnet- 
ism," and  which  if  it  did  not,  like  charity,  cover  a 
multitude  of  sins,  was  with  many  deemed  a  charm- 
ing and  lively  substitute  for  dull  and  sober  virtues 
like  honesty  and  truth. 

But  for  the  rich  desks  and  a  tall  Chinese  screen, 
gaily  ornamented  with  birds,  flowers  and  fishes,  his 
office  would  have  been  plainly  furnished. 

Half  a  dozen  secretaries  were  answering  letters. 
Telegrams,  some  like  burglars  masked  in  cipher,  some 


22  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

like  honest  men  in  no  need  of  disguise,  \vere  flying 
back  and  forth  over  the  wires.  Party  leaders,  depu- 
ties from  various  leagues,  unions,  societies  and  other 
''Keely  Motors"  for  making  people  rich,  virtuous  and 
happy,  by  the  turn  of  a  crank  or  the  passage  of  a  law, 
constantly  came  and  went.  Some  of  his  visitors  wrere 
aggressive  and  interrupted  him;  others  were  modest 
and  waited.  His  doors  were  always  open,  for  he 
believed,  with  Cicero,  that  nothing  so  helps  a  politi- 
cian as  keeping  himself  in  constant  contact  with  the 
the  crowd. 

On  one  desk  was  placed,  every  morning,  a  huge 
stack  of  circulars,  which  before  night  were  dispatched 
by  the  hundreds  to  the  local  representatives  of  Brew- 
ster's  party,  who  in  turn,  mailed  them  to  such  persons 
as,  in  their  judgment,  might  be  influenced  thereby. 
They  were  lithographed  imitations  of  his  hand- writing 
and  read  as  follows: 

"DEAR  SIR :  —  Regretting  that  circumstances  will  prevent  my 
having,  as  I  would  like  to  have  with  so  intelligent  a  person,  a  per- 
sonal interview,  I  can  only  urge  you  to  activity  and  vigilance  in 
the  promotion  of  our  cause  and  to  assure  you  that  in  case  of  my 
election,  your  efforts  will  not  go  unrecognized. 
Very  truly,  yours, 

AAEON  B.  BREWSTER." 

A  stack  of  magazines  and  newspapers  for  which  he 
said  he  did  n't  care  a  sou-marque,  lay  upon  his  own 
table.  It  was  the  duty  of  one  of  his  secretaries  to 
open  them  and  mark  the  articles  which  Brewster 
would  probably  like  to  see.  He  took  up  the  Western 
Hemisphere  Review  and  speedily  found  himself  up  to 
his  eyes  in  a  sketch  of  his  career. 


THE  COMPLETE  LETTER-WRITER-.  23 

•  "  This  man,"  said  the  writer  in  conclusion.  "  repre- 
sents the  meanness  and  corruption  of  our  politics,  the 
sordidnessin  our  national  character,  and  the  dishonesty 
in  our  national  disposition.  He  is  the  natural  leader  of 
those  who,  by  knavishness  as  a  mob,  like  to  compen- 
sate themselves  for  the  virtuous  self-denial  of  their  in- 
dividual honesty." 

Brewster  slightly  flushed  as  he  glanced  hastily  over 
it,  but,  on  concluding,  murmured:  "Lawrence"  in 
a  low  voice. 

A  wing  of  the  screen,  which  stood  near  the  Major's 
desk  swung  half  way  around,  disclosing  a  small  table, 
on  which  lay  a  bunch  of  nicely  sharpened  lead  pencils 
and  packages  of  red-lined  blank  paper  for  shorthand 
writing. 

A  young  man  of  medium  height  and  somewhat 
spare  of  body  with  keen  bright  eyes,  and  quick,  ner- 
vous motion,  stepping  from  behind  it  came  toward 
Brews ter's  desk. 

"Find  report  between  Tapton  and  me!" 

"  Do  you  remember  what  year? " 

"  Eighteen  hundred  and  seventy-nine." 

Going  to  the  further  end  of  the  office,  he  opened  the 
door  of  a  safe  built  into  the  wall,  lit  the  gas  inside, 
and  from  a  collection  of  bound  manuscripts  brought 
away  a  volume,  whose  sheets  were  covered  with  the 
odd  quirks  of  a  short-hand  reporter. 

After  rummaging  through  the  book  he  began  read- 
ing, when  the  Major  stopped  him. 

"  That  is  enough;  I  remember  it." 

The  young  man  went  back  into  his  rudimentary 


24  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


closet,  and  at  his  table,  of  course,  could  hear  all  that 
went  on  in  the  room.  Moreover,  visitors  had  to  sit 
next  the  screen,  and  the  Major's  desk  was  so  broad 
that  they  were  obliged  to  speak  loud,  enabling  the 
reporter  to  hear  them.  But  in  these  interviews  he 
never  took  down  Major  Brewster's  words,  unless  that 
gentleman  began  his  sentence  with  a  slight  "Ahem!" 
The  Major  dictated  to  his  secretary,  Lawrence  Dan- 
forth,  the  following  letter  as  "  points  "  for  an  editorial 
in  his  party  journal— "The  Orb  of  Day:" 

"Sir:  One  Charles  Tapton  has  seen  fit  in  the  '  Western  Hemis- 
phere Review  '  to  attack  me  with  the  grossest  scurrility.  It  pre^ 
tends  to  be  the  organ  of  the  so-called  cultured  and  respectable 
people — the  high-toned,  kid-gloved,  and  tea-table  aristocrats  who 
fatten  themselves  on  the  interest  of  the  debts  which  the  people 
have  to  pay.  As  you  might  expect,  therefore,  it  is  the  receptacle  in- 
to which  hired  scribblers  empty  the  sewerage  of  their  minds  when 
disappointment  or  envy  prompts  them  to  attack  decent  people. 

In  an  interview  with  me  this  man  said : 

"  'There's  too  much  timidity  in  our  politics.  We  need  a  man 
who  will  pry  into,  shake  down  and  tear  up  everything,  no  matter 
how  much  dust  it  raises.  We  need  a  national  house-cleaning  from 
garret  to  cellar.  There  are  some  departments  so  rotten  that  a  vig- 
orous kick  will  knock  them  all  to  pieces.  You  are  not  afraid  to 
give  it.  We  need  more  red  life-blood  in  our  politics.  The  cares 
and  burdens  of  the  multitude  are  neglected.  You  are  their  natural 
champion.  Go  on  bravely  and  you  will  win  your  reward.' 

"  Then  he  asked  me  for  his,  which  was  an  appointment  to  St.  Pe- 
tersburg. I  told  him  it  was  too  early  to  make  promises ;  that  it 
was  n't  well  to  buy  the  tiger's  skin  until  after  you  had  killed  the 
tiger.  I  understand  that  he  has  since  had  an  offer  from  the  other 
side.  If  he  desires  proof  of  all  this,  he  shall  be  accommodated  at 
any  time. 

"  Respectfully  yours 

"  AARON  B.  BREWSTER.'' 

All  this  was  true  in  the  main,  and  yet  not  exact- 
ly true.     For  many  years  Tapton  had  been  a  warm 


THE  COMPLETE  LETTER-  WRITER.  25 

admirer  of  Brewster,  and  had  written  eulogistic  books 
and  magazine  articles  about  him.  Having  at  last 
lost  faith  in  the  Major,  and  done  a  good  deal  of  harm 
in  his  day  by  setting  up  such  an  idol  for  popular  wor- 
ship, he  thought  it  was  high  time  to  change  his  demi- 
god back  into  a  demagogue.  In  quoting  him,  Brewster 
had  perverted  his  words.  He  did  indeed  say  that  the 
country  needed  such  a  man,  but  he  did  not  say  that 
Brewster  was  the  man,  though  perhaps  he  meant  it,  and 
on  Brewster's  asking  him  why  he  didn't  get  an  appoint- 
ment to  the  Berlin,  Paris  or  London  mission,  he  said 
he  wanted  to  go  to  St.  Petersburg,  if  anywhere,  for 
the  sake  of  studying  the  Russian  people. 

Lawrence,  having  copied  the  letter  into  ordinary 
writing, 'put  it  into  the  mail  box  alongside  of  fifty  more. 

In  the  meantime  Brewster  ran  his  eye  over  several 
newspapers  which  had  been  hostile  to  his  nomination. 
Their  editors  were  sitting  dowrn  to  that  intellectual  re- 
past known  in  American  politics  as  "  eating  crow," 
which  consists  in  either  impudently  ignoring  what 
you  once  solemnly  pronounced  the  truth  about  a  pub- 
lic man;  impudently  explaining  that  you  abused  him 
while  laboring  under  a  delusion  about  his  real  charac- 
ter; or  that  the  triumph  of  the  party  and  its  meas- 
ures is  of  far  more  importance  than  the  "mere  char- 
acter" of  its  leaders. 

A  griin  smile  played  lightly  over  the  face  of  the 
veteran  politician,  as  he  read: 

"  When  there  are  blows  to  give,  the  blow  of  the  '  Daily  Bugle'  is 
the  clearest  of  the  clarion  notes  which  ring  out  for  our  ancient  lib- 
erties and  the  old  Constitution.  But  we  must  face  vital  issues. 


26  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

On  a  careful  examination  of  the  charges  we  once  felt  compelled  to 
bring  against  our  gallant  standard-bearer,  we  find  that  we  were 
misled,"  etc. 

Presently  lie  knit  his  brows  at  the  "  Eed  Pine  Bum- 
ble-Bee,"  buzzing  away  in  a  thriving  Colorado  town, 
and  intimating,  with  charming  Western  candor  and 
Shakspearean  wealth  of  scurrility,  that  no  convention 
could  make  its  editor  retract  a  word  he  had  ever  ut- 
tered in  regard  to  its  candidate;  he  "would  sooner  be 
kicked  to  the  bottom  of  the  deepest  gulch  in  Colo- 
rado by  an  army  mule;"  "that  no  sickly  galoot  of  a 
politician"  could  make  him  "  bend  the  knee  before 
the  ugly  idol  after  which  our  party  has  gone  astray." 

"  We  speak  only  within  bounds  and  with  a  full  sense  of  our  re- 
sponsibility, when  we  call  him  a  boil  on  his  party's  nose,  a  sty  in 
its  eye,  a  rotten  tooth  in  its  jaw,  a  green-apple  ache  in  its  stomach 
a  hornet  in  its  councils,  and  a  pumpkin -Ian  tern  in  its  campaigns. 
He  infests  the  party  as  trichinae  infest  a  ham,  and  undermines  its 
constitution  like  a  blast  of  malaria  from  a  morass,"  etc.,  etc. 

Ordinarily,  Brewster  would  have  paid  no  attention 
to  an  article  of  this  sort;  but  it  represented  a  western 
politician  of  considerable  influence  who  had  been  high 
in  the  councils  of  his  party,  and  had  several  times 
come  into  collision  with  Brewster.  Its  "  vigor"  had 
attracted  notice  also,  and  it  was  having  a  free  run  in  the 
newspapers. 

"  Lawrence,"  said  the  Major,  handing  a  memoran- 
dum, "  look  this  man  up! " 

Lawrence  went  again  to  the  safe,  and  picking  out  a 
large  blank  book,  turned  to  a  check  on  a  Chicago  bank 
signed  "  Maurice  Tatem."  Thereupon  Brewster  dic- 
tated to  Danforth  the  following: 


THE  COMPLETE  LETTER-  WRITER.  27 

"DEAR  SIR:  I  see  that  a  paper  under  your  control  continues 
hostile  to  Major  Brewster.  The  Major,  as  I  happen  to  know,  has 
in  his  possession  a  check  once  signed  by  yourself  in  another  man's 
name.  This  harmless  scribbling  on  a  certain  kind  of  paper  creates 
a  good  deal  of  prejudice  in  some  quarters,  and  is  punishable  by 
strict  seclusion  from  the  society  of  one's  fellow  creatures  for  a  term 
of  years.  Allow  me,  as  a  friend,  to  suggest  that  Brewster's  prudence 
in  preventing  this  paper  from  falling  into  hostile  hands,  may  per- 
haps modify  the  views  of  his  character  and  political  career  which 
are  attributed  to  your  inspiration.  If  history  is  not  at  fault,  short- 
ly after  this  check  was  discovered  and  made  good  by  your  friends, 
you  went  to  Colorado  to  '  cure  your  asthma.'' 

"  To  the  Hon.  THOMAS  MC!NTYRE, 

"  Red  Pine,  Colorado." 

"Sign  your  own  name  to  that,  Lawrence,"  said 
Brewster.  "  That  Bee  will  stop  stinging  and  go  to 
making  honey." 

A  succeeding  issue  justified  Brewster's  prophecy. 
A  copy  of  it  was  sent  to  him  with  the  following  arti- 
cle marked  at  the  top,  the  bottom,  and  along  the  sides, 
so  that  it  could  by  no  manner  of  means  be  over- 
looked: 

"  We  have  received  information,  from  the  very  highest  sources, 
that  compels  us  as  an  honest  man  to  retract  what  we  have  hereto- 
fore said  about  the  eminent  candidate  of  our  glorious  old  party. 
We  are  assured  that  he  is  entirely  sound  on  the  main  question.  In 
critical  times  mere  personal  prejudices  must  give  way  to  the  good 
of  the  party.  We  are  glad  to  sacrifice  our  private  feelings  on  its 
altar,"  etc.,  etc. 

Brewster's  faint  smile  was  almost  constant  as  he 
went  over  column  after  column  of  praise  from  old 
friends  and  old  foes.  Suddenly  a  thunder-cloud  over- 
spread his  face: 

"By   the   Lord,"    said  he,     "that  fellow  doesn't 


28  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

know  whom  be  's  dealing  with.  I  have  spared  him 
long  enough.  Lawrence,"  he  cried,  almost  explosively. 

Lawrence  arose,  afraid  lest  he  had  committed  some 
blunder,  until  Brewster's  order  re-assured  him: 

"  Bring  me   «  the  Tickler  '!  " 

Danforth  brought  a  tin-box,  fastened  by  a  trusty 
lock,  forBrewster  allowed  no  one  but  himself  to  handle 
"  The  Tickler."  He  took  from  the  box  a  scrap-book, 
filled  with  photographic  copies  of  various  documents 
—  threads  and  webs  of  evidence,  which,  in  this  world 
of  sins  and  follies,  get  unsuspectedly  woven  into  peo- 
ple's lives,  sometimes  pushing  them  to  despair  and 
suicide,  or  desperation  and  murder. 

His  anger  was  aroused  by  Congressman  Rodney 
from  the  42nd  district  of  New  York,  who,  in  a  lively 
speech/had  been  dissecting  Brewster's  political  biog- 
raphy, and  making  sport  of  his  inconsistencies.  It 
was  one  of  the  sensations  of  the  hour,  and  angered 
Brewster  all  the  more,  because  he  understood  that  such 
a  speech  was  far  more  damaging  than  mere  abuse. 

"With  the  swiftness  of  an  actor  writing  imaginary 
letters  in  a  play,  he  scratched  oif  a  note  to  a  friend  of 
Rodney's: 


I  see  Rodney  has  undertaken  to  attack  me  in 
public.  I  do  not  object  to  fair  criticism,  but  when  it  coraes  to 
personalities,  I  propose  to  make  it  uncomfortable  for  anybody  that 
likes  that  style  of  controversy.  There  is  a  Turkish  proverb  '  He 
who  steals  the  Sultan's  hen  will  return  it  to  him  a  cow.'  Tell  him 
for  me  that  I  have  a  photographic  copy  of  a  certain  hotel  register, 
by  which  it  appears,  that  Mr.  R.  S.  Rodney  and  wife  occupied 
Room  No.  33,  Monster  Hotel,  New  York,  Dec.  30th,  1877.  As 


THE  COMPLETE  LETTER-WRITER.  29 

Mrs.  Rodney  was  500  miles  from  that  city  on  that  30th  of  Decem- 
ber, perhaps  he  may  be  less  free  with  personalities  if  he  reflects 
how  easily  she  might  be  agitated  by  a  few  words  from 
"Yours  truly, 

"AARON  B.  BREWSTER." 
"To  JAMES  BIZMOTH,  Esq." 

Three  days  afterward  Rodney  repeated  his  caustic 
speech  almost  within  Brewsters  hearing,  and  in  the 
meanwhile  sent  him  the  following  reply: 

"  DEAR  BREWSTER:  I  see  you  are  taking  a  fatherly  interest  in 
my  domestic  affairs.  I  have  been  an  orphan  for  over  thirty  years, 
and  it  is  a  comfort  to  feel  there  's  one  willing  to  follow  my  foot- 
steps with  such  vigilance  and  to  guide  them  into  the  paths  of 
righteousness.  I  hope  you  will  keep  those  documents  and  read 
them  whenever  you  want  to  relieve  yourself  of  the  wear  and  tear 
of  statesmanship.  Let  them  remain  as  I  do, 

"Yours, 

"  RODNEY. 

''  P.  S. — IVFrs.  R.  has  been  dead  these  three  months." 

"  Rodney 's  pretty  sharp  for  a  rattlehead,"  said  Brew- 
ster  to  himself.  "  It  is  useless  to  get  into  a  rage  with 
him.  '  Dost  thou  well  to  be  angry  with  this  gourd  ?'  " 

Brewster  had  even  more  respect  for  him,  when,  after 
the  election,  he  heard  that  Rodney's  wife  was,  after  all, 
alive  and  hearty,  and  that  Rodney's  postscript  had 
duped  him.  However,  this  was  a  rare  experience, 
and  only  added  new  variety  to  a  much  diversified  life. 

These  matters  disposed  of,  he  again  took  up  the 
"  Hemisphere  Review,"  an  dread  the  article  more  care- 
fully : 

"  Major  Aaron  B.  Brewster,  the  smartest  man  in  the  United 
States,  as  his  friends  delight  to  call  him,  has  fairly  won  this  high- 
est title  to  nobility  which  is  conferred  in  the  American  Republic  ; 


30  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

for,  in  order  to  attain  that  honor,  it  is  necessary  to  gain  success 
rather  than  to  deserve  it.  He  is  an  excellent  reformer — out  of  office  ; 
a  public-spirited  patriot — on  the  stump. 

"What  Tie  does  with  impunity  would  hopelessly  bury  ordinary 
men  ;  but  he  never  winces  at  his  failures.  Proofs  of  his  tamper- 
ing with  votes  ;  proofs  of  mercantile  transactions  in  which  his 
partners  nearly  always  end  by  denouncing  him,  in  words  more  or 
less  carefully  chosen,  as  a  swindler,  seem  in  no  way  to  diminish  his 
popularity,  or  at  least  his  control  of  the  party  machine. 

"It  has  been  charged  that  his  deciding  vote  in  a  congressional 
committee  granted  rich  subsidies  to  a  railroad  running  through  an 
Arizona  desert,  and  that  he  was  subsequently  found  possessed  of 
a  large  '  block '  of  its  bonds.  The  evidence,  contained  in  certain 
compromising  letters,  he  wrested  from  the  man  who  held  them. 
According  to  one  story,  Brewster  choked  him  into  insensibility; 
according  to  others,  he  went  down  upon  his  knees,  and,  with  tears 
in  his  eyes,  begged  for  their  surrender.  The  favorite  version  de- 
scribes him  as  resorting  to  strangulation  when  begging  proved 
useless.  Escape  from  the  mesh  of  testimony  woven  about  him,  be- 
coming at  last  impossible,  he  adopted  the  device  of  Richelieu  in 
the  play,  and  pretended  that  he  was  dying  from  the  excessive 
agony  into  which  these  unholy  persecutions  had  thrown  him.  .It 
was  noticed,  however,  that  soon  after  the  public  cried,  '  let  up  on 
him;  do  not  harrass  a  dying  man,'  he  grew  as  high-colored  and 
bumptious  as  ever.  Whenever  entangled  in  some  of  the  difficul- 
ties that  embarrass  smart  men,  he  invariably  rises  to  the  occasion 
and  exposes  the  vile  conspiracies  of  the  other  side.  His  worshipers 
in  the  party  press  applaud  him  with  Hindoo  servility  and  Persian 
extravagance.  His  very  latest  speech  is  always  the  most  powerful 
ever  delivered  by  the  illustrious  orator;  his  arguments  are  always 
'weighty;'  his  eloquence  'fiery;'  his  '  invective  scathing;'  his  im- 
pudence 'brilliant.' 

"  In  Brewsters's  opinion  the  righteousness  of  a  cause  depends 
upon  the  number  of  votes  it  can  secure.  He  believes  in  the  omnis- 
cience of  his  party's  majority.  If  that  majority  can  not  touch  truth 
at  the  bottom  of  any  conceivable  well  of  human  knowledge,  '  who 
can?  That 's  what  he  'd  like  to  know.'  This  nonsense  about  the 
study  of  history,  law,  finance,  and  the  science  of  government  is 


THE  COMPLETE  LETTER-WRITER.  31 

worthy  of'a  European  despotism !  Votes  can  be  tallied  and  counted. 
that  is  plain.  But  this  overhauling  the  records  of  the  past  and 
digging  up  the  experience  of  dead  men,  '  can  you  put  that  into  a 
ballot  box. —  copy  it  on  to  a  tally-sheet  election  night,  and  ascer- 
tain eternal  truth  before  sunrise?  ' 

"As  the  representative  of  an  omniscient  party  majority,  Brew- 
ster  can  do  no  wrong,  and  needs  no  conscience.  He  has  an  infal- 
lible spiritual  director  in  the  political  almanacs.  As  it  was  useless 
at  Rome  arguing  with  the  master  of  forty  legions,  so  a  dis- 
cussion with  Brewster,  if  he  has  a  thumping  majority  behind  him, 
is  a  pure  waste  of  time.  Like  that  celebrated  Englishman,  when 
his  pistol  misses  fire,  he  knocks  you  down  with  the  butt  end  of  it. 
An  American  philosopher  once  declared  that  one  with  the  Almighty 
is  a  majority,  but  in  Brewster's  scheme  of  the  universe,  one  with 
the  majority  is  the  Almighty,  or  at  least  the  '  smartest  man  in  the 
United  States,'  which,  in  his  opinion,  is  almighty  near  it,"  etc.,  etc. 

How  much  truth  there  was  in  this  brief  biography 
it  is  difficult  to  say.  Its  style  and  method  are  what, 
the  world  over,  is  known  as  "politics;"  and,  as  such, 
it  must  stand  for  what  it  is  worth.  His  opponents 
believed  every  word  of  it — or  tried  to.  His  friends 
and  supporters  paid  the  homage  which  vice  owes  to 
virtue,  by  declaring  that  it  was  a  "  campaign  slander  " 
upon  a  man  trying  to  do  his  duty  and  serve  his  coun- 
try. And  the  most  of  them  believed  that — or  tried  to. 

Brewster  disdained  finishing  the  article,  but  tossed 
the  magazine  contemptuously  to  one  side. 

"  Pshaw! "  said  he,  "  I  am  a  fool  to  call  attention  to 
it.  Most  of  those  who  see  it,  will  vote  against  me 
in  any  event.  I  can't  afford  to  advertise  it." 

Going  to  the  letter  box,  he  picked  out  his  communi- 
cation to  the  "  Orb  of  Day,"  and  tore  it  into  fragments. 

"I. must  run  down  to  Roxbury,"  he  said,  and, 
summoning  Danforth,  in  a  few  minutes  was  whirling 
out  of  the  city. 


32  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE  MAJOR'S  AGRICULTURAL  TASTES. 

As  they  rattled  along,  the  passengers  from  the 
other  cars  came  out  at  intervals  upon  the  platform, 
and,  through  the  broad  panes  of  the  drawing-room 
coach,  stared  at  the  celebrated  candidate.  The  rumor 
of  his  journey,  as  rumors  will,  mysteriously  spread, 
and,  at  each  station,  travelers  and  idlers,  in  hopes  of 
catching  a  glimpse  of  him,  drifted  toward  the  rear  of 
the  train.  The  bolder  attempted  pushing  into  the  car, 
but  found  their  patriotism  thwarted  by  the  conductor. 
Major  Brewster,  always  alert,  observed  it,  and,  step- 
ping out  npon  the  platform  of  the  car,  bowed,  shook 
hands,  and,  when  time  allowed,  made  brief  speeches, 
which  were  purposely  full  of  sound  and  fury,  signify- 
ing nothing. 

Ostensibly  to  chat  with  a  legal  acquaintance,  really 
to  gratify  the  curiosity  of  his  fellow  travelers,  lie 
finally  went  forward;  whereupon  a  procession  be- 
gan moving  past  him  through  the  aisle, 'and  an  al- 
most endless  chain,  the  links  consisting  of  a  line  of 
eyes  that,  staring,  emerged  through  one  door,  and, 
staring,  disappeared  through  the  other,  passed  before 
him,  and  of  which  the  imperturbable  Major  did  not 
appear  to  be  in  the  slightest  degree  conscious. 


THE  MAJOR'S  AGRICULTURAL  TASTES.        33 

Near  the  rear  of  the  column,  and  with  a  partially 
embarrassed  and  yet  eager  air,  straggled  an  elderly 
man,  clad,  notwithstanding  the  heat,  in  a  new  and  ill- 
fitting  broadcloth  suit,  and  an  outer  envelope  of  dark 
drab  "duster."  On  entering  the  car  he  awkwardly  re- 
moved his  hat,  displaying  a  distinct  demarcation  be- 
tween his  bald,  bleached  forehead  and  the  russet  hue 
with  which  the  wind  and  sun  had  stained  him. 

There  was  a  perplexed  hesitation  in  his  walk,  and 
he  looked  at  Major  Brewster  with  anxiety  and  in- 
quisitiveness  which,  though  doubtful  of  recognition, 
was  tempered  by  an  apparent  consciousness  of  his 
proper  claims  to  the  great  man's  notice.  His  doubts 
were  quickly  dispelled ;  for  the  Major,  catching  sight 
of  him,  arose,  extended  his  hand,  and  motioning  him 
to  a  seat  by  his  side,  exclaimed: 

"Ah,  Mr.  Sampson!  An  unexpected  pleasure. 
You  're  a  good  ways  from  home." 

The  tall,  large-boned  man,  nervously  shuffling  his 
chocolate-colored  glazed  straw  hat  from  one  hand  to 
another,  dropped  into  the  seat. 

"And  how  are  those  peaches?"  exclaimed  Major 
Brewster,  in  a  hearty  tone.  "  I  haven't  forgotten  the 
taste  of  them  yet.  You  got  your  appropriation  for 
your  horticultural  society?" 

Under  this  subtle  flattery,  the  face  of  Mr.  Sampson 
— who  came  from  the  "  peach  belt  "  of  western  Mich- 
gan,  and  was  believed  to  hold  the  "  granger  vote  "  of 
that  State  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand — glowed  like  one 
of  his  own  pumpkins  in  an  October  sun.  It  was  a  mild 
countenance  enough,  with  its  bronze  and  its  wrinkles, 
3 


34  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

and  belonged  to  a  man  who,  outside  of  politics,  was  as 
mellow  and  juicy  as  the  fruit  he  cultivated.  But  on  the 
former  subject  he  was  as  amiable  towards  his  opponents 
as  an  "  able  editor"  discussing  the  merits  of  an  "  es- 
teemed co  temporary." 

"  Well,  well,"  he  replied,  flattered  quite  out  of  his 
embarrassment,  "  who  'd'a'  thought  you'd  remembered 
so  long?  It  must  'a'  been  eight — or  was  it  nine — years 
ago!" 

"  Nine  years,  next  September,"  said  Brews ter.  "  By 
the  way,  I  must  send  you  some  illustrations  of  Jap- 
anese fruit  culture;  you  '11  find  them  interesting  if  not 
useful;"  and  he  made  a  memorandum. 

"  Much  obleeged,  I'm  sure.  As  to  that  'propria- 
tion " 

"  O,  was  n't  it  enough !  "Well,  we  '11  double  it  one 
of  these  days,  once  we  break  down  this  national  bank 
monopoly." 

"  Yes,  that's  the  fust  thing  to  be  done,"  said  Mr. 
Sampson.  "  Was  read  in'  that  last  speech  of  your'n 
comin'  'long  on  the  cars.  It's  jes'  chain-lightnin'. 
Hain't  been  so  warmed  up  these  ten  year.  That 
Joslyn's  needed  a  good  hetchelin'  this  many  a  day. 
Ye  sot  him  down  hard/" 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Brewster,  "I  was  sent  to  the  Senate 
to  look  after  him,  and  I  tried  to  carry  out  my  part  of 
the  contract." 

"Well,  ye  did!  The  ole  rascal!  Don't  see  why 
't  is  the  Lord  'lows  such  scoundrels  to  get  into  Con- 
gress. S'pose  they  sneak  in,  when  they  think  He 
ain't  lookin'.  Joslyn  and  his  party  want  to  rush  the 


THE  MAJOR'S  AGRICULTURAL  TASTES.        35 

country  to  the  devil  by  express  train  and  sen'  the  bill 
in  to  us.  They  're  fuller  o'  cussedness  than  a  piller  o' 
feathers,  /  b'leeve." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Brewster,  "  they  'd  change  our  form 
of  government,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  if  our 
people  should  only  shut  theirs  as  long.  We  have  to 
keep  wide  awake." 

"  That  ye  have,"  said  Mr.  Sampson,  "  and  .ye  keep 
them  wide  awake,  too,  I  notice.  You  show  'em  up  in 
their  true  colors." 

"  Thank  you !  Mr.  Sampson,  I  only  try  to  do  my 
duty." 

"  1  was  jess  tickled  to  death,  where  ye  turned  on 
him  and  said  if  he  carried  out  his  infernal  schemes, 
he  'd  be  the  fust  to  hang  high'r'n  Hamen.  I  swon,  I 
b'leeve  I'd  like  to  see  him  strung  up,  even  if  I  am  a 
deakin.  I  don't  see  how  you  stan'  it  to  sit  there  and 
hear  'em  talk  such  treason ;  favorin'  the  bankers  at 
the  expense  of  the  agricultooral  classes,  and  tryin'  every 
way  they  can  think  of  to  make  it  hard  for  poor  folks 
to  get  along." 

"  It 's  as  much  as  I  can  do  to  control  myself,  some- 
times," said  Brewster  ;  "  but  we  must  keep  cool,  you 
know.  Rashness  might  spoil  everything." 

".It 's  askin'  a  good  deal  o'  human  natur'  not  to 
want  to  shut  'em  up  for  good  'n  all." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Brewster,  solemnly,  "  they  're  dan- 
gerous men.  I  tremble  sometimes,  when  I  think  of 
what  would  happen  if  they  should  carry  the  election." 

"  I  hope  ye  '11  get  in  a  lick  at  Joslyn,  every  time 
there's  a  chance.  He  's  the  boss  rascal.  Sometimes 


36  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

after  readin'  his  abuse  of  our  folks,  I  feel  'z  if  he  'd 
stay  in  bed  a  month  after  I  'd  got  done  with  him," 
said  this  peaceful  and  law-abiding  citizen. 

"  You  were  coming  to  see  me,  of  course,"  said  Ma- 
jor Brewster,  getting  tired  of  this. 

"  Well,  yes,  I  had  thought  of  it,  but  I  s'pose  you 
don't  have  much  time  to  spare,"  said  Sampson,  mod- 
estly. 

"  Have  all  the  time  there  is,  as  the  saying  goes. 
Is  Mrs.  Sampson  with  you  ?"  he  asked  cordially. 

"  I  left  her  over  to  Dilbury.  She  comes  from  about 
here,  p'raps  ye  reck'lect." 

"  Yes, —  yes —  she  was —  a—  a —  liurlbut." 

At  this  Sampson  beamed  once  more. 

"  Why  didn  't  you  bring  her  with  you  ?"  added  Brew- 
ster, in  such  tones  of  regret  that  Sampson  felt  as  if 
his  neglect  had  hurt  Brewster's  hospitable  feelings. 
"  Miss  Winifred  would  have  been  delighted  to  see  her. 
Can't  you  send  for  her  now  ?" 

"  Well,  I  dunno  but  I  can." 

"Of  course  you  can!  Bring  her  down  to  dinner  to- 
morrow !  She's  one  woman  in  a  thousand  for  good 
sense." 

Mr.  Sampson  smiled  almost  aloud,  and  after  some 
further  talk  about  the  "  chances  "  in  Michigan,  went 
away,  resolving  that  Brewster  should  have  every 
"  granger  vote  "  at  his  command. 

This  talent  for  remembering  names  and  faces — form- 
ing so  great  an  element  of  success  in  American  poli- 
tics— was  Brewster's  natural  gift  carefully  cultivated, 
and  never  suffered  to  lie  useless.  His  memory  rarely 


THE  MAJOR'S  AGRICULTURAL  TASTES.        37 

balked  at  any  reasonable  chasm  of  time  or  space  across 
which  he  spurred  it.  Carroll  once  said  he  was  as  great 
a  human  curiosity  as  those  colored  waiters  at  the  ho- 
tels who  never  blunder  in  handing  the  right  hat  to  the 
guests  coming  out  of  the  dining-room.  "  I'm  afraid," 
he  added,  laughingly,  "  that  if  Brewster  should  ever 
be  so  unlucky,  he  would  commit  suicide,  as  one  of  the 
fellows  with  a  hat-memory  once  did  at  Saratoga,  for 
having,  in  a  moment  of  temporary  aberration,  handed 
a  soft  broad-brim  felt  to  the  managing  director  of  an 
English  railway,  who  never  in  his  life  wore  anything 
but  a  *  stove-pipe.'  " 

Brewster  came  out  especially  strong  also,  in  his  deal- 
ings with  the  agriculturists,  lie  had  spent  his  youth 
on  a  Vermont  farm,  from  which,  in  detestation  of  the 
drudgery,  he  escaped  at  the  earliest  practicable  day. 
As  soon  as  his  fortune  permitted,  however,  he  bought 
and  operated  a  hundred  acres  at  a  large  annual  loss  in 
money,  but  with  much  profit  as  a  luxury  and  recrea- 
tion. His  general  knowledge  .of  agriculture  was  of 
great  service  to  him  on  the  "off  years"  of  politics — 
his  addresses  at.  State  fairs  and  cattle-shows  being, 
next  to  the  "hoss-trots,"  their  most  attractive  feature. 

The  train  drew  up  at  the  Roxbury  station,  and  the 
Major,  quickly  alighting,  and  followed  by  his  private 
secretary,  made  his  way  to  the  other  side,  where  a  dull- 
looking,  modest  barouche  with  a  shining  pair  of  grays 
attached,  awaited  his  coming.  An  intelligent,  sweet- 
tempered  young  face,  with  tender  brown  eyes  and 
finely  molded  features,  smiled  at  him  a  delighted 
welcome. 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


"  You  always  telegraph  at  the  very  last  moment, 
papa.  I  had  scarcely  time  to  get  here,"  said  a  low,  well 
modulated  voice,  to  which  people,  charmed  with  its 
sweetness,  often  listened  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  hear- 
ing it. 

"  I  never  know  I'm  coming  until  the  very  last  mo- 
ment," he  said,  kissing  her  heartily  and  entering  the 
carriage,  which,  after  Danforth  had  ensconced  himself 
on  the  front  seat,  went  off  at  a  rapid  pace;  the  idle 
crowd  watching  it  until  it  had  crossed  the  open  space, 
behind  the  station  and  disappeared  around  the  corner. 

"  By  the  way,  Winifred,"  said  her  father,  "  I  have 
invited  a  Michigan  gentleman  with  his  wife  to  dinner 
to-morrow.  He  is  engaged  in  the  honorable  but  not 
elegant  pursuit  of  providing  the  Chicago  markets  with 
Early  Crawfords;  I  can't  promise  you  a  rare  intellectual 
feast,-  but  I  should  like  to  have  you  look  especially  to 
the  dinner,  and  see  that  it  leaves  an  impression  which 
will  last  till  next  November,  at  least.  Will  you 
remember?" 

Winifred  had  laid  other  plans  for  the  following  day, 
but  at  once  renouncing  them,  replied,  smiling,  at  the 
double  significance  of  her  words: 

u  It  sha'n't  be  forgotten." 


THE  MAJOR  AT  HOME.  39 


CHAPTEE    Y. 
THE  MAJOR  AT  HOME. 

BOXBDRY,  where  Brewster  began  his  career,  and  still 
supervised  his  business,  had,  within  his  own  recollection 
grown  from  a  small  Connecticut  village,  scattered 
along  the  banks  of  a  full  and  rapid  stream,  to  a  man- 
ufacturing city  of  15,000  inhabitants,  the  enterprise 
of  which  had  obliterated  many  of  the  old  landmarks 
in  the  streets  through  which  he  drove  to  his  home. 

His  handsomely  groomed  gray  span  and  the  unpre- 
tentious carriage  turned,  after  a  half-mile  ride,  into  a 
roadway  laid  out  across  a  smooth,  inclined  lawn,  and 
halted  at  the  steps  of  a  red  brick  house  with  a  modest 
tower.  A  broad  veranda,  surrounding  three  sides, 
long  projecting  windows  on  the  western  exposure,  and 
large  clear  plate-glass  lights,  gave  it  a  luxurious  yet 
home-like  aspect.  It  was  divided  by  a  hall  running 
the  length  of  the  house;  a  long  parlor  and  a  smaller 
one  on  one  side — a  library,  dining-room,  and  sitting- 
room  on  tne  other.  On  the  library  side  was  a  wing, 
which  he  devoted  to  the  transaction  of  business.  The 
well-shorn  lawn  sloped  toward  the  main  road,  while 
elms  and  locusts  softened  without  obscuring  the  view 
of  river  and  street. 


40  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

In  accordance  with  her  promise,  Winifred  was  at 
home  the  next  day,  and,  on  their  arrival,  did  her  best 
to  make  her  father's  guests  feel  so.  The  dinner-table, 
with  its  glacial  linen  and  glistening  .service,  was  set 
in  a  cool  dark  dining-room,  as  if  it  might  have  been 
a  caliph's  feast  in  the  depths  of  a  grotto.  In  the 
middle  of  the  polished  inlaid  floor  lay  a  rug  of  Ori- 
ental lines  and  pattern.  The  walls  were  chastely  tinted 
of  palest  bird's  egg  blue,  with  tracery  of  gilt.  Richly 
carved  chairs,  covered  with  Russia  leather,  were  placed 
around  the  table.  On  the  doors  of  the  side-board 
sculptured  ducks  and  partridges  shone  rich  in  the 
dark  wood.  The  moisture  of  the  sultry  air  had  con- 
verted the  ice-cold  tankard  into  a  beaker  of  frosted 
silver.  Round  silver  trays  stood,  like  shields,  in  a 
row  on  the  shelf  above,  and  shone  like  mirrors  under 
the  few  scattered  rays  of  sunlight  which  seemed  to 
seek,  in  this  coolness,  shelter  from  their  own  hot  dis- 
comfort. Two  or  three  landscapes  in  oil  hung  upon 
the  walls — a  buffalo  hunt;  deers,  feeding  on  the  lily 
pads  in  a  mountain  lake;  and  a  busy  scene  of  hay- 
makers gathering  the  hay,  while  a  storm  loomed  dark 
in  the  west  and  already  obscured  the  sun.  This  pic- 
ture was  regarded  as  special  proof  that  the  Major  was 
a  friend  of  the  laboring  classes  and  the  leader  of  the 
toiling  millions.  He  called  Mr.  Sampson's  attention 
to  it,  and  asked  him  if  it  did  not  remind  him  of  "  St. 
Joe  "  county. 

But  in  the  room  and  through  the  house  there  was  a 
studied  moderation,  which  seemed  to  stand  guard 


THE  MAJOR  AT  HOME.  41 

against  the  intrusion  of  any  loud,  unsubdued,  and  vul- 
gar offspring  of  raw  and  sordid  pride. 

From  the  dining-room  one  caught,  through  a  wide 
archway,  glimpses  of  the  library,  of  its  tiers  of  open 
cases,  and  of  the  luxuriant  mosaic  of  the  books  in 
many-hued  muslin  and  creamy  leather.  Their  owner 
was  an  enormous  reader,  with  a  memory  like  a  pho- 
nograph's. 

He  was  not  a  glutton,  or  an  epicure,  but  lived  ra- 
tionally; he  liked  nourishing  soups,  and  nice  white 
bread,  and  well-chosen,  well-cooked  meats.  He  drank 
delicate  and  expensive  wines,  but  he  drank  sparingly. 
He  abstained  from  over-indulgence  in  tobacco  and 
from  low  vices.  He  was  too  busy  and  too  eager  in  his 
pursuit  of  great  prizes  for  riotous  excess.  He  knew 
too  well  the  value  of  a  clear  head. 

Opposite  him  at  the  table,  sat  his  daughter;  the  de- 
light of  her  father's  eyes,  the  pride  of  her  father's  heart. 
Those  who  knew  him  only  by  his  roughness  and  inso- 
lence, little  dreamed  of  the  -well-spring  of  affection 
which  flowed  for  her  in  the  depths  of  his  rocky  nature. 
Her  intelligent  brown  eyes  looked  softly  out  from 
under  her  long  eyelashes.  Her  dark  brown  waving  hair 
was  rolled  in  great  swaths  about  her  well-shaped  head 
which  crowned  a  tall  and  graceful  figure;  and  when 
her  generally  pale  complexion  grew  rosy  under  excite- 
ment, or  the  cold  of  a  winter's  day,  she  was  the  hand- 
some type  of  a  bright  and  well-endowed  American 
girl.  But,  being  by  no  means  robust,  it  was  her  father's 
constant  care  to  protect  her  from  all  that  would  harass 
or  expose  her.  Her  mother  having  died  when  she  was 


42  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

two  years  old,  he  had  devoted  to  her  nurture  and  edu- 
cation his  tenderest  and  most  intelligent  thought. 

The  only  time  this  cast-iron  man  was  ever  known  to 
blush  was  at  the  flattery  of  an  old  woman  who  said, 
u  Winifred  looks  like  her  par."  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
they  looked,  when  together,  like  a  scraggy  cactus  with 
one  beautiful  blossom,  whose  beauty,  in  contrast  with 
the  harshness  and  prickliness  of  the  plant,  was  all  the 
more  striking.  The  poor  blest  her  for  her  tender  con- 
sideration of  them,  the  rich  for  her  amiable  generos- 
ity, unspoiled  by  luxury  and  homage. 

"There  is  nothing  like  farming,  nothing  in  the 
world,"  said  Brewster  to  Mr.  Sampson,  as  they  sat  at 
dinner.  "  It  is  true  independence.  I'd  give  all  I  am 
worth,  if  my  son  would  take  an  axe  in  his  hand  and 
clear  up  a  farm  as  you  did.  It 's  a  hundred  times  bet- 
ter than  the  best  Government  office  going.  If  there's 
anything  makes  me  melancholy,  it  is  to  see  the  young 
men  throughout  this  land  so  anxious  for  an  office  and 
so  ambitious  for  these  empty  prizes  in  politics." 

"  I  have  n't  heard  so  much  square  sense  to  the  acre 
since  I  left  St.  Joe,"  said  Mr.  Sampson. 

"  That 's  what  I  keep  telling  our  boys,"  said  Mrs. 
Sampson,  simply,  "but  they  turn  'round  and  say: 
'  Pooh,  ma!  you  don't  know  what  you  are  talking 
about.  Do  you  suppose  smart  men  like  Mr.  Brew- 
ster and  Senator  Joslyn  don't  know  what 's  worth 
having?  Why  did  n't  they  stay  farmers,  if  it 's  as  nice 
as  it 's  cracked  up  to  be?" 

Mr.  Sampson,  horrified  at  his  wife's  boldness,  prom- 
ised himself,  almost  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  to 


THE  MAJOR  AT  HOME.  43 

call  her  to  account.  But  Brewster  only  laughed,  and 
said: 

"That's  the  way  it  looks  to  outsiders,  of  course; 
but  if  they  could  only  see  the  thing  from  the  inside 
they  would  agree  with  me." 

"  It 's  'cordin'  to  sukkumstances,"  said  Mr.  Sampson, 
apologetically. 

And  Winifred  came  to  the  rescue  of  her  father,  by 
saying,  with  a  certain  refined  heartiness  that  always 
conquered  people: 

"  Mrs.  Sampson  does  n't  look  as  if  she  were  greatly 
troubled  about  her  boys." 

"No,  they're  very  good  boys,"  she  replied;  "but 
father  and  I  have  always  tried  to  make  home  attract- 
ive, and  let  them  have  their  own  way  on  the  farm  a 
good  deal.  They  have  horses  and  buggies,  and  we 
take  some  of  the  magazines  and  buy  books.  I  says 
to  father,  years  ago,  '  times  are  changing,  and  we 
must  change  with  them.'  " 

"  I  should  not  think  they  viould  want  to  go  away," 
said  Winifred,  very  kindly  and  sincerely. 

"  Yes,  that's  the  way,"  said  Brewster;  "keep  the 
boys  on  a  farm,  and  if  you  have  money,  make  it  at- 
tractive for  them.  There  's  that  '  Tally-ho'  coaching 
club  in  N*ew  York,  driving  six  horses  and  blowing  a 
brass  bugle.  They  're  young  men  of  wealth,  culture 
and  college  education,  who  have  nothing  in  the  world 
to  do,  and  do  it  every  day.  .They  're  the  worst  kind 
of  tramps.  They  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin.  If 
any  of  them  were  my  boys,  or  if  I  had  the  power  in 
New  York,  I  would  set  that  class  of  men  to  doing  ex- 


44  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

actly  what  they  have  shown  themselves  fit  for — to  drive 
a  Broadway  coach  from  six  in  the  morning  until  nine 
in  the  evening,  so  they  would  have  enough  of  playing 
coachman ;  or  better  yet,  I  would  give  them  a  turn  at 
plowing,  mowing  and  threshing." 

Mr.  Sampson  listened  eagerly,  drinking  in  every 
word,  and  resolving  to  report  this  speech  at  the  next 
meeting  of  the  "grange,"  and  have  it  published  in 
the  St.  Joe  "  Fruit  Basket."  It  would  make  hundreds 
of  votes  for  Brewster. 

Dinner  finished,  they  retired  to  the  sitting-room, 
which,  on  one  side,  opened  upon  the  veranda,  on  the 
other  into  the  library.  They  were  hardly  seated  before 
a  card  bearing  a  visitor's  name  was  brought  in,  and 
the  Major,  excusing  himself,  withdrew  to  the  library, 
into  which  the  visitor  had  been  shown. 

He  carefully  closed  the  door,  as  he  supposed,  but 
the  wind  blew  it  slightly  ajar,  which,  sitting  with  his 
back  to  it,  he  did  not  notice.  The  talk  between  "Win- 
ifred and  Mrs.  Sampson  drifting  into  household  mat- 
ters, Sampson  lost  interest,  and,  being  near  the  door, 
had  his  attention  diverted  to  the  voices  in  the  library, 
so  that  almost  before  he  knew  it  he  found  himself  a 
steady  and  interested  listener. 

The  Major,  greeting  his  guest  with  familiar  cor- 
diality, asked  him  if  he  had  been  to  dinner.  On  the 
score  of  never  dining  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  he  de- 
clined the  invitation. 

"  Try  a  little  champagne,  then,"  said  Brewster  ;  "  I 
had  a  Michigan  granger  to  dinner,  and  they  're  a  little 
risky  on  the  liquor  question.  I  '11  join  you  in  a  glass 
now." 


THE  MAJOR  AT  HOME.  45 

"  Thank  you  !  I  don't  want  your  champagne.  If 
you  've  got  some  Bourbon  handy,  p'r'aps  I  can  get 
away  with  a  little,"  he  said  with  a  chuckle.  "  I  'in 
just  over  an  attack  of  the  { epizoot,'  and  it  may  be  that 's 
the  very  thing  for  me." 

"  You  Jre  quite  welcome,"  said  Brewster,  ringing 
the  bell  ;  "  but  I  can  put  my  digestive  apparatus  to 
better  use  than  burning  it  out  with  whiskey." 

"  O,  nonsense!  D'  ye  suppose  the  Almighty  would 
make  whiskey  and  not  make  stomachs  for  it!  How- 
ever, I  can 't  stay  long.  I  'm  down  to  see  you  about 
those  '  Pinafore'  shares!  They  've  had  bad  luck  out 
there,  I  s'pose  you  know,  and  I  'm  a  good  deal  mixed 
about  it.  Silver  's  going  to  be  skittish,  especially  if 
you  fellows  get  your  innings.  You  may  have  my 
check  for  a  thousand  for  a  choice  of  give  or  take,  three 
days  from  date." 

"  Well — well — well,"  said  Brewster,'reflectively  and 
confidentially,  "  we  've  stood  by  each  other  through  all 
kinds  of  rough  weather  in  the  '  Pinafore,'  and  it 's 
quite  unaccountable — your  present  attitude.  I  feel  as 
uncertain  as  you  do  about  the  prospect,  but  that 's  no 
reason  why  I  should  try  to  throw  it  on  to  your  shoul- 
ders. I  am  disappointed  in  you.  Robert,  bring  us 
some  cigars,"  he  said,  as  the  servant  put  the  decanter 
on  the  table. 

"  I  know,  and  I  'm  sorry,"  said  the  other,  "  but  I  'm 
carrying  too  much  sail." 

"  O  if  it 's  any  accommodation,"  said  Brewster,  good- 
naturedly,  "  I  '11  take  it  off  your  hands.  You  've  done 
me  a  good  turn  before  now." 


46  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"  Thank  you! "  replied  Joslyn;  "  I  '11  hold  on  a  little 
while  longer;  but  if  you  hear  of  anybody  that  '11  buy, 
I'll  be  pretty  sure  to  sell.  Another  thing;  Parsons 
won't  settle  that  claim  without  legal  proceedings. 
I  'm  convinced  of  that.  And  I  thought  if  we  could 
bring  a  joint  suit,  it  would  save  time  and  expense." 

There  followed  upon  this  a  long  conference,  and  then 
Joslyn,  dismissing  business,  asked:  * 

"  Well,  how  are  things? " 

"  O,  lively,  lively!  "  said  Brewster.  "  Going  to  your 
usual  place  this  summer?" 

"  Family 's  going.  I  've  got  .to  stand  Bandy's  antics 
all  summer.  They  've  made  him  secretary  of  the  Na- 
tional Committee  again,  you  know,  and  he's  always 
fawnin'  and  pawin'  over  you,  and  actin'  's  if  he  want- 
ed to  sit  in  your  lap,  like  the  donkey  in  JEsop's  Fa- 
bles." 

"  He 's  better  than  he  used  to  be  years  ago,  when  he 
was  my  private  secretary  and  clerk  of  my  committee," 
said  Brewster.  "  But  he  was  so  useful  and  knew  the 
ropes,  I  could  n't  let  him  go." 

"  That 's  the  deuce  of  it,"  said  Senator  Joslyn.  "  The 
infernal  little  fool  knows,  almost  without  looking,  how 
every  county  in  the  Union 's  gone  the  last  twenty-five 

years.  He's  d indispensable;  that's  the  worst 

of  it.  He  can  figger  so  all-fired  close,  you  've  got  to 
stand  him.  Bet  you  a  hat  I'll  know  your  own  State 
canvass  better  'n  you  will,  two  weeks  before  election." 

"  I  never  bet,"  said  Brewster,  turning  the  subject. 
"  Did  I  ever  tell  you  how  Bandy  broke  the  bad  news 
to  his  uncle?" 


THE  MAJOR  AT  HOME.  47 

"  Guess  not,"  replied  Joslyn,  re-lighting  his  cigar. 

u  His  uncle  in  Cincinnati  had  the  heart  disease,  and 
so  had  his  son,  Bandy's  cousin.  The  son  died  in 
Richmond,  I  believe,  and  Bandy  was  badly  puzzled 
how  to  let  the  old  man  know,  so  that  the  shock  would  n't 
be  fatal  to  him.  After  studying  on  it  awhile,  Bandy 
telegraphed  to  his  uncle :  ' Be  calm !  George  is  dead! ' " 

Joslyn  laughed  one  of  his  own  laughs.  He  took 
his  fun  as  he  did  his  liquor — never  sipping  it  slowly, 
with  a  view  to  getting  the  full  flawr  of  it  and  letting 
it  titillate  him  with  a  languid  trickle;  he  gulped 
it.  His  laugh  was  not  so  much  a  hearty  laugh 
as  it  was  a  pulmonary  and  a  bronchial  laugh,  explod- 
ing itself  in  great  roars  and  tumults  of  gratifica- 
tion. 

Winifred  heard  him,  and,  recognizing  the  laugh, 
exclaimed: 

".Why,  that's  Senator  Joslyn.  He  and  father 
always  have  such  jolly  times  together,  joking  and 
telling  stories.  They  do  so  enjoy  each  other.  I  must 
ask  him  about  Kitty  and  Mrs.  Joslyn, — she 's  such  a 
sweet  woman  and  Kitty  is  as  sensible  and  kind  as  can 
be.  We  've  been  friends  for  years.  I  wonder  if  they 
are  going"  to  Deer  Park  this  summer." 

Mr.  Sampson,  with  staring  eyes  and  half-open 
mouth,  partially  rose  from  his  c'lair,  exclaiming: 

"  Who —  who —  did  you  say  2" 

"  Senator  Joslyn,"  replied  Winifred. 

But  Sampson  said  no  more,  for  the  visitor,  about 
taking  leave  of  Brews ter,  remarked: 

"  O,  you  're  over-confident,  as  you  always  are. 


48  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

We  '11  lay  you  out  and  put  ice  around  you,  and  keep 
you  's  long 's  possible,  so  's  people  slia'n't  forget  you 
ran  for  President." 

And  Joslyn  laughed  a  laugh  a  horse  might  envy. 

"  He  laughs  best  who   laughs   last,"  said  Brewster. 

"  We  '11  put  you  in  the  nine-holes,  anyhow,"  said 
Joslyn.  "We  're  going  to  do  a  land  office  business 
this  summer,  let  me  tell  you." 

"  Excuse  me  for  not  nattering  you,"  replied  Brew- 
ster ;  "  but  since  old  Zach  went  on  to  the  retired  list, 
there  's  nobody  to  take  his  place.  He  had  a  way  of 
taking  the  right  bower  with  the  left  that  was  hard  for 
an  honest  man  to  beat." 

"  You'll  be  beat  fair,  or  not  at  all,"  said  his  visitor, 
wiping  his  mouth,  brushing  the  biscuit-crumbs  from 
his  lap,  and  rising  to  go.  "  By-the-bye,  Kitty  wanted 
me  to  give  a  message  to  Miss  Winifred." 

"  Step  into  the  parlor  and  I'll  send  her,"  said  Brew- 
ster, entering  the  room  and  telling  Winifred  a  gen- 
tleman wished  to  see  her. 

"  O  yes,"  she  exclaimed  gaily,  "  Senator  Joslyn !  I 
»vant  to  ask  about  Kitty  and  her  mother,"  and  excus- 
ing herself  a  moment  went  off. 

Major  Brewster  knew  instinctively  that  her  words 
were  doing  mischief.  A  glance  at  Sampson's  face 
and  the  library  door  told  the  whole  story. 

"  Yes,  Senator  Joslyn,"  said  Brewster,  echoing  Win- 
ifred, in  a  low  tone  to  Sampson.  "  He  's  cunning;  as 
I  told  you  yesterday,  you  must  watch  every  motion 
or  they  '11  trip  you  up  from  behind.  He  came  down 
here  under  pretense  of  talking  about  a  law  suit  and 


THE  MAJOR  AT  HOME.  49 

silver  mine  shares,  but  wliat  he  really  wanted  was  to 
worm  out  rny  plans  for  the  campaign.  Luckily  he 
likes  stories,  and  I  put  him  off  by  telling  him  or 
making  him  tell  a  lot  of  them." 

Under  the  circumstances,  this  was  the  best  Brew- 
sted  could  do,  but  it  was  emphatically  a  case  where 
the  best  was  none  too  good.  A  bigot  in  politics,  Mr. 
Sampson  was  wholly  sincere.  Sitting  near  the  fatal 
door,  and  hearing  the  visitor's  name,  as  well  as  the 
evidence  of  the  family  intimacy,  he  began,  like  people 
during  an  earth-quake,  to  feel  as  if  the  foundation  of 
things  were  breaking  up.  His  pas  tor,  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Partington,  could  not  have  more  astounded  him,  had 
he  risen  of  a  Sunday  to  affirm  that,  after  amusing  him- 
self with  the  composition  of  a  cursing  Psalm  or  two, 
David  went  off  to  joke  and  hob-nob  with  the  Philistines 
whom  he  had  denounced. 

Brewster's  vivid  portraits  of  Joslyn  in  a  long  series 
of  public  speeches,  had  made  a  profound  impression 
upon  Sampson's  imagination.  He  had  come  to  regard 
him  and  his  coterie  as  the  incarnation  of  the  evils 
from  which  only  by  perpetual  and  desperate  vigilance 
the  country  was  saved.  The  mention  of  his  name 
always  stirred  Sampson's  otherwise  gentle  heart  to 
anger  and  bitterness.  He  had  never  seen  Joslyn,  and 
did  not  want  to.  Though  in  his  presence  the  mild-man- 
nered Sampson  would  have  spoken  with  bated  breath, 
and  moved  with  bashful  agitation,  yet  he  often  in- 
dulged his  heated  fancy  in  imaginary  encounters  with 
the  renowned  and  wicked  Senator,  in  which,  even  if 
no  personal  violence  was  done,  he  saw  himself  empty  - 
4 


50  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

ing  upon  that  bad  man's  head  the  vials  of  wrath  which 
Brewster  had  filled  to  overflowing. 

Scarcely  twenty-four  hours  since,  Brewster  had  pre- 
tended to  agree  that,  for  the  sake  of  the  country's  peace 
and  prosperit}^  the  lawful  hanging  of  Joslyn  and  his 
"  crew"  was,  if  not  practicable,  pre-eminently  desira- 
ble; while  just  now  he  had  given  the  miscreant  a  more 
cordial  reception  than  he  had  bestowed  upon  himself. 
He  had  made  him  first  a  peace-offering  of  champagne, 
and  then  a  burnt-offering  of  whisky  and  cigars.  He 
had  heard  them  enjoying  stories  at  the  expense  of  each 
other's  party  friends,  and  making  jokes  about  the  re- 
sult of  the  presidential  election,  which  in  Sampson's 
eyes  was  the  most  critical  the  nation  had  ever  entered 
upon,  and  an  altogether  solemn  and  tragic  act  of  fifty 
millions  of  people.  It  was  a  sacrilege  for  men  in  their 
position  to  treat  it  with  such  levity.  How  could 
Brewster,  standing  thus  on  the  brink  of  possible  na- 
tional ruin,  joke  with  one  of  the  men  principally  re- 
sponsible for  the  deadly  peril?  offering  to  help  him 
him  pecuniarily,  and  betraying  close  and  confidential 
business  relations  with  him  ?  Moreover,  their  families 
were  on  most  excellent  terms.  What  right  had  the 
daughter  of  his  party  leader  to  be  a  fond  and  intimate 
friend  of  the  daughter  of  the  party  leader  who  was 
trying  to  destroy  the  country?  "Was  this  the  way  to 
uphold  the  pure  doctrines  of  the  party?  What  was  it 
but  a  kind  of  unequal  yoking  of  unbelievers  which  the 
Bible  forbade  in  religion,  and  which  patriotism  ought 
to  forbid  in  politics.  The  idea  of  any  of  Joslyn 's  be- 
longings— his  kith  or  his  kin — being  sweet  women 


THE  MAJOR  AT  HOME.  51 

and  kind  hearted  and  sensible  persons,  was  simply  im- 
possible; and  only  a  defect  in  moral  vision  could  dis- 
cover such  virtues  in  such  people. 

Sampson  felt  rather  than  thought  these  tilings,  and 
being  under  the  influence  of  his  unusual  and  impres- 
sive surroundings,  very  naturally  thought  rather  than 
uttered  them. 

Shortly  after  Brewster's  explanation,  he  and  Mrs. 
Sampson  took  their  leave;  but  these  revelations,  mar- 
ring the  bloom  of  earnestness  on  his  political  preju- 
dices, made  him  a  wiser  but  less  enthusiastic  partisan 
than  he  had  ever  been  before. 

Brewster's  remarks  about  the  advantages  of  agricul- 
ture and  the  education  of  boys,  never  appeared  in  the 
St.  Joe  "Fruit  Basket,"  and  the  grangers  of  Michigan 
remained  ignorant  of  his  many  virtues,  which,  but  for 
this  contretemps,  they  would  have  learned  from  an 
eye-witness.  From  that  day  on,  Sampson  allowed  the 
campaign  in  his  section  to  "  languish." 

"Winifred  had  unintentionally  fulfilled  her  promise 
beyond  anything  she  could  possibly  have  dreamed. 
Mr.  Sampson  never  forgot  this  dinner. 


52  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER  YI. 
AGENTS  WANTED-APPLY  WITHIN. 

AFTER  the  representatives  of  the  western  agricul- 
tural interests  had  departed,  her  father,  hastily  scan- 
ning his  daughter's  diamonds,  bracelets,  and  pearl 
necklace,  as  she  sat  in  the  library  looking  at  an  illus- 
trated newspaper,  said  almost  abruptly: 

"Winifred,  my  dear,  I  wish  you'd  dress  a  little 
more  plainly — for  the  present  at  least." 

"Why,  father!"  she  exclaimed,  looking  up  sur- 
prised. "  What  has  'come  over  you?  You  're  always 
delighted  with  my  toilettes." 

"You  shall  lose  nothing  by  it,"  he  answered. 

She  made  no  reply.  She  was  fond  of  her  elegance, 
and  knew  that  it  became  her.  She  did  not  ask  him 
the  reason  of  his  suggestion;  perhaps  she  guessed  it; 
perhaps  imagined  she  would  get  only  an  evasive 
or  satirical  response.  Then  she  thought  of  his  con- 
stant kindness  to  her  and  that,  from  a  father  so  uni- 
formly indulgent,  even  an  intrinsically  unreasonable 
request  was  not  unreasonable. 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  losing  anything  by  it,"  she  said, 
after  a  short  pause;  "and  it 's  no  great  sacrifice  after 
all;  for  it  doesn't  matter  so  much  what  I  wear  up 


AGENTS  WANTED— APPLY  WITHIN.  53 

here.  I  don't  want  to  give  up  my  ear-drops  though ; 
besides,  it 's  not  safe  leaving  them  around." 

"  You  can  have  some  gold  globes  made  for  them," 
he  said,  rising.  "  It  will  be  only  until  after  election." 

"Why  not  then?" 

He  did  not  answer  directly,  and  she  did  not  ask 
again.  He  muttered  something  about  its  being  of  no 
importance,  then,  and  left  the  room  for  his  office. 

In  passing  through  the  dining-room  he  met  his  only 
son,  a  second  edition  of  himself,  except  that  he  was 
short,  round,  bald,  and  only  thirty  years  of  age.  Their 
mutual  likeness  provoked  a  mutual  dis-likeness  and 
an  armed  neutrality  between  them. 

The  young  man,  sitting  down,  rang  the  bell,  and 
ordered  the  waiter  to  bring  him  "  some  dinner."  He 
wished  that,  instead  of  leaning  on  the  back  of  a  chair 
and  watching  his  movements,  "  the  old  man  "  would 
leave  the  room. 

""Well,  Tom,"  said  his  father  at  last,  "  when  are  you 
going  to  do  something?" 

"  When  I  've  finished  my  dinner." 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do  then?" 

"Play  a  game  of  billiards." 

"  I  want  your  help  this  summer." 

"How  can  I  help  you?"  he  exclaimed,  in  apparent 
astonishment. 

"  Prepare  documents,  keep  me  informed  of  Joslyn's 
movements,  and  take  charge  of  a  part  of  the  corres- 
pondence. The  boys  in  the  office  are  overworked, 
and  I  do  not  want  to  take  in  any  strangers  at  this  late 
day.  Then,  too,  I  don't  want  these  newspaper  scrubs 


54  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

talking  about  the  luxury  and  idleness  of  my  family. 
I  want  to  have  it  said,  '  Brewster  practices  what  he 
preaches.' "  . 

"  Then  let  Brewster  preach  differently,"  sneered  the 
young  man. 

"  That 's  nonsense,  and  you  know  it.  My  request  is 
quite  reasonable,"  said  his  father. 

"  Well,  if  I  'in  a  judge,  it 's  preposterous,"  he  an- 
swered. "  What 's  the  use  of  wasting  time  and  money 
in  this  election  flummery?  You  '11  be  licked  any  way. 
Why  do  you  want  to  worry  out  the  rest  of  your  life  in 
this  political  slew?  I  would  n't  give  the  value  of  a 
millionaire's  will  to  be  President.  I  want  to  enjoy 
life — not  make  one  dem'd  grind  of  it  as  you  do." 

His  father  was  about  to  remonstrate  further,  but 
perhaps  realizing  the  uselessness  of  it,  or  not  having 
the  time  to  spare,  or  recognizing  in  him  some  of  his 
own  "  smartness,"  took  his  departure.  The  young 
man  went_calmly  on  with  his  dinner,  muttering: 

"  The  reason  I  am  not  afraid  of  him  is  because  I'm 
him  over  again, — except  that  I  like  champagne  and  an 
Havana  and  a  pretty  waiter-girl,  and  he  does  n't — any 
more  than  I  like  his  politics.  There 's  no  accounting 
for  tastes.  I  wish  I  had  his  energy,  though;  I  believe 
I  'd  take  the  stump  for  the  other  party.  It  would  fur- 
nish the  newspapers  with  some  mighty  interesting 
reading,  and  draw  bigger  crowds  than  he  can.  But 
what 's  the  use  of  sweating  to  save  the  country,  until 
you  're  fit  for  nothing  but  a  coffin.  It  seems  to  me  a 
country  that  needs  so  much  saving  is  n't  worth  it.  I 
never  learned  to  save  anything,  except  trouble,  and  I 
sha'n  't  beffin  now." 


AGENTS  WANTED— APPLY  WITHIN.  55 

And  lighting  a  cigar,  he  walked  off,  turning  abruptly 
from  the  library,  on  seeing  his  father  there,  and  mak- 
ing his  way  to  his  favorite  billiard  room  down  town. 

The  "  old  man's  "  face,  as  he  paused  at  the  library 
window  and  looked  at  his  mill  property,  grew  more 
cheerful. 

The  splendor  of  the  gray  stone  building,  six  stories 
high,  a  fraction  of  a  mile  long,  with  a  dome-sur- 
mounted tower  in  the  center,  recalled  the  shabby 
little  wooden  mill  in  which,  on  the  same  site,  his  en- 
terprise began;  and,  after  the  manner  of  a  prosperous 
man  he  rubbed  his  hands  together. 

The  report  of  the  Hoxbury  Manufacturing  Com- 
pany, of  which  he  was  chief  owner  and  director,  had 
declared  its  ordinary  three  per  cent,  quarterly  divi- 
dend. For  many  years,  "panic"  or  no  "panic" 
"  hard  times  "  or  otherwise,  it  had  not  failed  to  pay  a 
profit  of  from  ten  to  twenty-five  per  cent,  annually; 
and,  had  contributed  a  large  share  to  its  owner's  pros- 
perity. 

He  had  fairly  earned  it  all;  for  that  arduous  work 
of  which  he  was  enormously  capable,  had  gone  into 
the  improved  and  economical  manufacture  of  the  cel- 
ebrated "army  blue."  Its  superiority  in  color  and 
texture  was  largely  due  to  the  Major's  twelve  and 
fourteen  hours  of  daily  labor,  in  earlier  life;  and  his 
patience,  industry,  and  ingenuity,  had  well  rewarded 
him. 

uBy  the  Lord!"  he  soliloquized,  "how  few  people 
can  handle  a  million  of  dollars!  though  there 's  scarce- 
ly a  donkey  but  thinks  he  can.  To  hear  them,  one 


56  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

would  suppose  an  eight-day  puppy  could  play  whist 
if  you  only  dealt  him  trumps  enough.  They  seem  to 
think  if  a  man 's  worth  a  million  he  spends  it  all  on 
himself.  They  never  imagine  that  he  turns  it  over, 
enlarging  his  business  and  giving  employment  to,  more 
people.  I  started  with  ten  thousand  dollars,  and  em- 
ployed a  dozen  hands;  now  I've  a  million  invested, 
and  hire  a  thousand.  Yet  there 's  scarcely  one  of 
them  but  think  she  could  run  the  thing,  or  hand  it  over 
to  the  government  and  go  to  a  caucus  and  elect  a  man 
who  could  run  it,  for  one  or  two  thousand  dollars  a 
year,  and  then  divide  the  surplus  among  themselves. 
The  days  and  nights  I  have  spent  cutting  down  here, 
lopping  off  there,  studying  chemistry,  and  experimen- 
ting with  dyes  and  machinery !  Yet  they  'd  expect  to 
hire  all  that  for  about  the  wages  they  earn." 

He  brought  his  soliloquy  to  an  abrupt  close,  and 
wended  his  way  to  his  office.  On  reaching  it,  he  plunged 
at  once  into  work,  dictating  letters  and  telegrams  to 
Danforth,  running  over  the  accounts  and  memoranda, 
and  signing  the  checks  which  the  agent  of  his  mill 
and  two  clerks  were  preparing  for  him. 

His  visit  thither  was  already  known  both  to  the 
prominent  citizens  of  Roxbury,  and  to  the  scores  of 
people  elsewhere  who,  every  day,  had  occasion  for  an 
interview  with  him  ;but  he  improved  a  moment  of  com- 
parative quiet  to  fall  into  a  reverie,  preparatory — pen 
in  hand — to  writing  a  letter. 

"  It  can  hardly  be  true  that  Carroll 's  coming  out  for 
the  other  side,"  he  said.  "  If  I  could  be  only  half  as 
good  as  he  thinks  he  is!  His  John-the-Baptist  devo- 


AGENTS  WANTED— APPLY  WITHIN.  57 

tion  to  Wharton,  I  suppose,  will  make  him  think  any 
other  man  quite  unworthy  of  his  preaching.  There  's 
surely  some  way  of  quieting  him!  Can  't  be  lie  's  con- 
scientious. Perhaps  I  could  get  him  up  here.  It 
could  be  made  known  from  Bangor  to  San  Francisco  in 
twenty-four  hours,  and  that  would  compromise  him  at 
any  rate.  Perhaps " 

He  thought  a  moment  longer,  and  then  began  his 
letter.  A  shadow  was  suddenly  cast  upon  his  paper, 
and  looking  up,  he  saw  Hans  Kaiser,  the  principal 
brewer  of  Roxbury,  fat,  puffing,  excited,  wiping  his 
round  coppery-red  face  with  a  wad  of  handkerchief. 

His  lithographed  token  of  Major  Brewster's  personal 
affection,  which  he  took  from  the  post-office  that  after- 
noon, would  scarcely  have  puzzled  him  more  had  it 
come  from  Bismarck  himself.  Not  clearly  understand- 
ing it,  he  applied  to  Mr.  Stratton,  who  happened  to 
stand  near. 

"  O  yes,"  said  Mr.  Stratton,  whose  estimate  of 
Brewster  was  freely  expressed  in  the  talk  with  the  pol- 
iticians on  their  way  to  the  convention;  "  that 's. _from 
Major  Brewster.  He  says  he 's  heard  you  know  all 
about  these  political  questions,  and  he  'd  like  to  talk 
with  you.  He  has  n't  time,  he  says,  to  come  and  see 
you,  so  you  had  better  go  and  see  him.  Perhaps 
lie  '11  give  you  a  post-office." 

Kaiser  started  and,  pushing  his  eager  way  to  Brews- 
ter's presence,  remarked,  without  further  ceremony: 

"  I  vonts  der  shpeak  mit  der  Maitchur." 

The  Major  nodded  permission,  and  continued  his 
writing;  he  had  a  talent  for  doing  two  or  three  things 
at  once. 


58  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"  I  kom  der  tog  mit  you,  Maitchur.  I  get  dis  led- 
derby  der  bozd-mazder.  Und  dey  doles  me  dot  Mait- 
cliur  Proozdur  vouts  der  tog  mit  mir  von  dose  polly- 
deeks.  Ve  vonts  plendy  of  moneys;  dot  iss  der  fee- 
nanze  qtiezjohn." 

"Do  you  speak  English?"  asked  Major  Brewster. 
"  I  cannot  talk  German." 

"Yah!  sehr  goot  Eenglish;  besser  dan  de  Doitch. 
Ye  vants  beek  moneys,  so  high  as  dot  ;"  measuring 
with  his  hand.  "  Dair  's  anohder  tings.  Dey  doles  me 
dot  Maitchur  Proozdur  gif  me  zurntings  ;  if  I  vurks 
hart,  he  gifs  me  der  bozd-ovviz." 

"  That  gentleman  over  there  will  tell  you  all  about 
that,3'  said  the  Major,  pointing  to  Danforth.  "  He's 
the  man  that  gives  those  things  to  people." 

Kaiser  looked  contemptuously  at  Danforth.  His 
"  ledder  "  had  come  from  "  Proozdur,"  and  only  with 
"  Proozdur  "  would  he  deal. 

"Nein.  I  not  knows  dot  glerg.  Ef  Proozdur 
doles  me  he  gif  me  tings,  I  gets  him  ;  ef  dot  glerg 
dol^s/AG,  dot  ish  no  good." 

"Well,  he's  the  one,"  said  the  Major.  "  I'm  too 
busy.  It 's  just  the  same." 

"  Nein.  Der  peer  makes  kein  moneys,  and  I  vont 
mem  lozd-ov\iz,  already." 

"  Talk  with  him!  "  said  Brewster,  with  a  gesture  of 
command,  that  left  Kaiser  no  choice. 

So,  turning  with  distrust,  he  walked  slowly  over  to 
Danforth,- who  explained  to  him  that  it  was  not  until 
after  election  that  post-offices  and  other  good  things 
would,  like  "  chromos,"  be  given  "  to  every  subscriber" 


AGENTS  WANTED— APPLY  WITHIN.  59 

to  the  party  platform,  or  at  least  to  the  "  getter-up  " 
of  "  clubs." 

As  Kaiser  lumbered  away,  wondering  why  he 
could  not  get  his  pay  in  advance,  a  man,  escorted  by 
two  others  who  introduced  him  to  Brews ter,  entered 
the  office.  He  was  roughly  dressed,  and  especially 
conspicuous  for  his  flannel  shirt.  Shaking  hands 
with  the  notorious  labor  agitator,  the  Major  invited 
him  into  a  small  interior  room,  where  a  conference 
ensued.  After  his  visitor  had  gone,  Brewster,  step- 
ping to  the  marble  basin  in  his  closet,  washed  his 
hands  with  finely  scented  soap. 

He  was  hardly  at  his  task  again  when  a  figure, 
dressed  in  black  from  his  gaiters  to  his  crape-wound 
hat,  shuffled  toward  him.  Every  part  of  his  cloth- 
ing shone  with  the  dull  gloss  of  farmer's  satin.  One 
would  have  said  that  by  some  mysterious  skill  he 
had  polished  equally  every  square  inch  of  surface. 
His  joints,  like  a  prepared  skeleton's,  seemed  hung  on 
wires,  and  as  he  shambled  along  his  toes  cracked  pain- 
fully. He  was  an  aristocratic  tramp,  who,  on  the 
strength  of  an  alleged  letter  from  a  church  dignitary, 
had  recently  persuaded  a  rector's  wife  to  clothe  him 
in  a  complete  outfit  of  her  husband's  cast-off  garb. 
He  stood  in  front  of  Brewster,  pulling  through  alter- 
nate hands  his  dark,  gray-streaked  whiskers. 

The  Major,  merely  nodding  at  him,  began  writing 

"Colonel  Brewster,  I  believe." 

The  Major  did  not  decline  his  promotion,  but  said 
curtly: 

"Yes  sir,  but  I  must  refer  you  to  that  gentleman." 


60  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

The  intruder  reluctantly  retired,  and  asked  Danforth: 

"  Can  I  have  a  private  interview  with  you?" 

"Yes." 

"  When  and  where?  if  you  please." 

"  Now  and  here." 

The  visitor,  with  some  astonishment,  glanced  at  the 
clerks. 

"They  are  deaf;  we  select  them  from  the  asylum  on 
purpose,"  said  Danforth,  coolly. 

Getting  no  further  satisfaction,  the  man  proceeded: 

"  I  called  to  propose  a  method  for  liquidating  the 
national  debt,  which  shall  enrich  the  public  creditors 
without  oppressing  the  people." 

"Every  man  with  a  plan  for  paying  the  national 
debt  wants  something;  I  suppose  it's  supper,  in  your 
case,"  said  Danforth,  handing  him  twenty-five  cents. 

"You  greatly  wrong  me  in  hinting  at  these  sordid 
motives,"  replied  his  visitor,  pocketing  the  quarter; 
"  but  I  have  a  process  for  doubling  the  wealth  of  the 
country  in  six  weeks." 

"  I'll  talk  with  you  about  it  after  the  election,"  said 
Danforth,  getting  out  of  patience,  for  lie  was  wasting 
time  on  a  fellow  who  probably  would  not  vote. 

"Quite right;  the  President" — he  said,  half  turning 
towards  the  Major — "ah!  excuse  my  sensitive  imagi- 
nation h  But  my  invention  can  be  made  to  serve  the 
cause  of  truth  and  justice  before  election.  It 's  paper 
and  ink.  I  will,  at  your  expense,  print  the  names  of 
those  foes  of  our  country,  the  candidates  of  the  oppo- 
site party,  and  see  that  they  are  supplied  with  such 
ballots.  Previously,  however,  I  shall,  with  my  invisi- 


AGENTS  WANTED— APPLY  WITHIN.  61 

ble  ink,  print  on  the  same  ballots  the  names  of  the 
champions  of  truth  and  justice — your  party,  you  un- 
derstand. The  chemical  reaction  of  my  paper  and 
ink  is  such,  that  the  names  of  our  country's  foes  will, 
after  reposing  an  hour  in  the  sacred  darkness  of  the 
ballot-box,  wholly  disappear,  and  the  names  of  the 
friends  of  truth  and  justice  become  visible." 

He  stopped  for  want  of  breath,  and  Danforth  rising, 
said: 

"That's  just  what  we  want;  but  we  must  talk  of  it 
more  privately.  Come  this  way ! " 

He  followed  Danforth  to  the  other  end  of  the  office, 
thence  to  an  outer  room,  through  which  they  passed 
to  a  side  entrance.  Opening  the  door,  Danforth  po- 
litely motioned  his  visitor  to  go  first,  which  he  did. 
Whereupon  the  secretary  shut  the  door,  locked  it,  and 
returned  to  his  work. 

The  man  outside,  smiling  gently,  tetered  off  to  the 
post  office,  on  the  front  steps  of  which  stood  .a  group 
of  men  earnestly  talking. 

The  loose-jointed  man,  walking  as  if  his  clothes, 
and  not  his  bones,  held  him  together,  came  up  to  them 
just  as  "  Grandfather  "  Cleland,  with  his  rheumatic 
fore-finger,  was  emphasizing  his  words  upon  the  elbow 
of  his  neighbor. 

"  There 's  mighty  few  politicull  men  know  who  to 
talk  to,"  said  Cleland  ;  "but  Brewster knows  his  man 
every  time.  You  see  he  's  sent  me  this  here  letter, 
and  tells  me  he 's  as  busy  as  a  boy  killing  snakes,  or 
he  'd  get  me  to- help  him  straighten  things  out.  D'ye 
ever  see  the  beat  on  't?" 


62  A  FAMOUS  riCTORY. 

"Did  I  ever  see  a  row  of  spindles  or  a  peck  o' 
peas?"  said  Frank  Harmon,  from  beneath  a  tangle  of 
whiskers  and  a  shock  of  coarse,  mahogany-hued  hair, 
unfolding  another  copy  of  Brewster's  Lithographed 
letter.  "  1  'm  the  man  he's  grieving  hisself  thin 
over,  because  he  can 't  see  me."  . 

"The  country  's  chuck  full  o'  statesmen,"  said  Jay- 
cox,  a  nephew  of  old  Cleland's,  whose  intelligence,  even 
under  the  grime  and  stains  of  oil  and  dyes,  announced 
itself  in  a  look  of  thoughtfulness  and  common  sense, 
and  in  the  pleasant  blue  eyes  that  were  gray,  and  the 
shrewd  gray  eyes  that  were  blue;  "and  Major  Brew- 
"ster's  found  'em  all  out,"  he  continued,  pulling  out 
a  third  copy  of  the  letter;  "  the  fellow  who  has  n't  the 
whole  science  of  government  about  him,  all  folded  up 
and  handy  's  a  pocket-rule,  must  feel  as  lonesome  as  a 
cod-fish  on  the  prairies." 

"  He 's  a  smart  politicull  leader;  that 's  what  /  say," 
remarked  Cleland,  with  an  air  of  having  classified 
Brewster,  and  put  him  away  for  the  use  of  future 
historians. 

"He  leads  a  party  as  a  locomotive  head-light  leads 
a  train,"  said  Jaycox;  "it  shows  where  the  train 's 
a-going — whenever  the  train  goes  that  way." 

"  I  do  n't  b'leeve  Brewster  'd  play  such  a  trick  as 
that,"  said  old  Cleland.  "  'T  enny  rate,  if  he  '11  only 
gin  a  poor  feller  a  boost,  I  '11  gin  him.  one.  Land  o' 
mercy!  how  a  mortgage  does  stick,  once't  it  gits  a  holt. 
You  'd  a  think  it  had  growed  on." 

"He'll  help  you,"  said  Harmon,  from  behind  the 
hairy  hedge  which  half  covered  his  tace.  "You  can 


AGENTS  WANTED— APPLY  WITHIN.  63 

pay  off  jour  mortgage  as  easy  as  you  can  take  off  your 
coat,  when  he 's  President." 

"  That 's  what  /  think,"  said  the  old  man.  « I  only 
want  to  git  rid  of  that,  for  it  pinches  like  a  new  shoe. 
I  've  had  it  on  so  many  years  now,  you  'd  think  it 
would  git  to  fit  me,  like.  On  gen'ul  princ'puls,  I 
b'leeve  in  hard  money.  Arter  I  git  that  paid  I'll  set 
my  face  like  a  flint  agin'  enny  more  paper." 

"  By  that  time  the  fellow  you  sell  to  will  think  it 's 
his  turn,"  said  Jay  cox.  "Ife  'II  want  more  money  so 
as  to  stick  some  other  chap,  just  as  you  do  now;  and 
if  he  has  n't  paid  you  cash,  you  'II  be  the  chap. 
There  '11  be  no  end  to  it  until  the  balloon  bursts.  I 
do  n't  believe  in  going  up  higher  just  for  the  sake  of 
falling  further." 

"  "What  1  've  to  do,"  replied  the  old  man,  « is  to  look 
out  for  myself,  and  they  must  look  out  for  them- 
selves." 

"  Yes,  do  n't  cross  a  bridge  till  you  come  to  it,"  said 
Harmon. 

"  JT  is  n't  for  my  interest  to  be  paid  in  such  money," 
said  Jaycox. 

"Not  your  interest!"  cried  Harmon,  "and  you  a 
workingman !  If  they  knew  that  over  there,"  nodding 
toward  Brewster's  mill,  "  you  'd  be  looking  for  a 
job." 

"  O,  he  do  n't  mean  nothin',"  said  old  Cleland,  in 
nervous  alarm.  "He  thinks  juss  we  do;  it 's  only  his 
way  o'  puttin'  it,  that 's  all." 

"  It 's  mighty  unlucky  for  him  it  sounds  so  different. 
It 's  my  notion  you  can  allers  tell  a  duck's  quack, 


64  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

even  though  an  old  hen  set  on  the  eggs,"  said  Har- 
mon. 

"  Not  always,"  said  Jaycox.  "  Some  folks,  hearin' 
your  voice  and  not  your  words,  might  take  you  for  a 
rational  creetur'." 

''  They  can  hear  your  voice,  and  your  words,  too,  over 
there,"  said  Harmon,  nodding  again  at  the  mill. 

"  You  're  a  sneak!  "  said  Jaycox,  "  to  he  worming  a 
man's  opinion  out  of  him.  But,  now  I  'm  in  for  it, 
I  '11  say  the  truth  that 's  in  me.  If  Cleland's  kind  of 
money  is  a  good_thing  to  pay  debts  with,  /do  n't  want 
it.  Those  folks  over  there  every  month  owe  me  sev- 
enty-five dollars,  and  if  trash  is  the  thing  to  pay  debts 
with,  it 's  not  the  kind  I  want." 

"Well,  my  friend,"  said  Harmon,  turning  to  the 
man  in  black,  "  you  want  better  times  at  any  rate, 
don't  you? — plenty  of  work  at  high  wages?" 

"  O,  I  can  get  enough,"  said  he,  with  an  amused  air, 
"if  it's  nothing  more'n  keepin'  my  jaws  a-goin'  like 
you.  I  'm  offered  wood  to  saw,  and  dirt  to  haul,  almost 
everywhere,  and  I  'm  always  willing  to  listen  to  'em,  even 
on  holidays.  I  '11  grind  their  scy  tlies  for  'em  Christmas, 
or  cut  ice  Fourth  o'  July.  I  '11  do  anything  that 's  be- 
comin'  the  pious  son  of  a  liquor-dealer,  bounced 
from  home  for  wanting  family  prayers  every  morn- 
ing." 

"Are  you  going  to  hear  Stratton?"  asked  Harmon 
of  Jaycox,  as  the  group  broke  up. 

"  Yes,  and  you  'd  better  go  too.     He  talks  sense." 

"Don't  give  him  away!"  pleaded  Cleland,  taking 
Harmon  aside,  and  nodding  toward  his  nephew  Jay- 


AGENTS   WANTED-APPLY  WITHIN.  65 

cox;  " you  see,  he  gives  me  a  lift  now  and  then.  He 's 
a  good  fellow — is  Abner,  but  he  do  like  to  talk; 
there's  no  use  talkin'  'bout  that.  But  he  gives  me 
suthm'  every  little  while  for  his  cousin,  my  darter-in- 
lor,  an'  her  lame  boy,  an'  it  helps  us  along  over  the 
rough  places." 
But  Harmon  would  afford  him  no  satisfaction. 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER    VII. 
THE  NET  AND  THE  BIRD. 

"HE  's  one  of  our  best  men,"  said  Superintendent 
Clegg,  of  the  Roxbury  Mill,  to  Brewster,  three  days 
after  this  talk  among  the  operatives. 

"  He  is  too  high-priced  a  man,"  replied  the  other. 
"You  can  probably  get  some  one  that  will  do  his 
work  for  less.  He  has  too  much  leisure  for  talking 
politics,  and  he  does  n't  talk  the  right  sort,  either." 

"  O,  if  he  was  a  postmaster  or  a  collector  I  would  n't 
say  a  word,"  continued  Clegg;  "you  expect  them  to 
talk  straight,  of  course;  but  this  is  a  matter  of  busi- 
ness, and  I  'm  afraid  the  work  will  suffer." 

"  The  Almighty  has  probably  made  more  than  one 
Jaycox.  Besides,  I  intend  to  be  consistent.  Of  course 
a  government  employe,  who  did  n't  know  how  to  keep 
his  thoughts  to  himself  better  than  Jaycox  does, 
would  have  to  go,  and — " 

"  But  that 's  the  government,  and  this  is  business." 

Brewster  closed  the  discussion  by  breaking  open  a 
letter  which  Danforthjhanded  him,  and  Clegg  dropped 
the  subject.  Brewster  would  not  have  listened  fur- 
ther, for  the  letter  brought  a  tingle,  even  to  his  weath- 
er-beaten sensations.  It  was  from  a  confidential  friend, 
in  reply  to  the  one  which  Brewster  wrote  with  so 


THE  NET  AND  THE  BIRD.  67 

many  interruptions,  and  announced  that  lie  had  per- 
suaded Carroll,  as  a  personal  favor,  to  accept  Major 
Brewsters  invitation  to  make  him  a  visit.  He  added, 
however,  that  Carroll's  pride  in  Wharton's  friendship 
and  his  own  consistency,  would  render  necessary  a 
more  than  ordinary  temptation  to  induce  him  to 
"  work  "  for  Brewster,  or  even  to  secure  the  approval 
of  his  silence. 

"He  is  a  rash  prophet,"  hummed  Brewster.  "  You 
can  not  tell  till  you  have  seen  the  play,  whether  or  not 
you  '11  sit  it  out." 

Carroll's  triumphs  as  a  "stump  speaker"  forbade 
his  being  unduly  underrated.  He  had  a  happy  com- 
bination of  requisite  gifts — a  full  chest,  a  melodious 
voice,  robust  health,  great  endurance;  wit  and  epigram 
at  his  tongue's  end,  together  with  a  vein  of  poetry  and 
humor  with  which  he  could  paint  a  dashing  portrait 
or  boldly  sketch  a  situation.  He  once  practiced  law, 
but  having  inherited  a  email  estate  from  his  father, 
found  "  lecturing"  more  profitable  and-  agreeable.  He 
was,  both  by  inheritance  and  tradition,  a  party  politi- 
cian ;  but  being  comparatively  of  an  independent  and  ju- 
dicial temper,  he  had  grown  disgusted  with  the  intense 
partisanship  and  groveling  intrigues  of  current  poli- 
tics. Except  in  regard  to  financial  questions,  tradi- 
tion and  party  discipline  had,  of  course,  forced  him 
to  keep  his  discontent  wholly  to  himself.  With  a  few 
other  "  malcontents,"  Carroll  had  hailed  "Wharton  as  a 
long-sought  deliverer  from  the  bondage  which  chafed 
them.  Though  Wharton's  frankness  and  indepenednce 
were  by  many  regarded  as  sincere  but  fantastic,  and 


68  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

he  was  accused  of  lacking  audacity  and  "magnetism," 
yet  his  avowed  faith  in  honest  elections,  honest  money, 
and  non-partisanship  in  office,  had,  as  they  imagined, 
at  last  lit  up,  with  the  novel  brilliancy  of  an  electric 
light,  the  political  fog  in  which  they  groped. 

His  sudden  death  narrowed  the  choice  of  such  men 
in  both  parties  to  Brewster  and  his  rival  on  the  other 
"ticket,"  It  perplexed  Carroll  sorely.  While  he 
shrank  from  joining  his  opponents,  his  duty  of  in- 
forming the  mind  and  probing  the  conscience  of  the 
country  on  the  questions  concerning  which  he  had 
strong  convictions,  seemed  reasonably  clear.  Indeed, 
he  found  it  difficult  to  keep  silence.  "Wharton,  he 
thought,  would  have  said:  "Follow  your  instincts — 
preserve  all  you  can  [of  your  consistency!  crook  your 
path  around  insurmountable  hills,  but  see  that  it  bends 
the  right  way,  and  comes  out  at  the  right  spot! " 

Moreover,  though  Carroll  was  a  disgusted  party  pol- 
itician, he  had  been  "  a  party  man,'4  and  it  was  an  odd 
sensation — the  thought  of  cutting  aloof  from  old  asso- 
ciates and  aiding,  even  indirectly,  the  election  of  a 
former  opponent.  It  brought  him  that  sense  of  dis- 
comfort which  one  feels  in  a  foreign  country  where  his 
smattering  of  the  language  barely  enables  him  to  make 
his  way;  but  gains  for  him  no  welcomes  or  confidences 
in  the  hearts  and  homes  of  its  people.  They  listen  po- 
litely while  he  speaks,  and  shrug  their  shoulders  be- 
hind his  back. 

Under  these  circumstances,  Carroll  learned  that 
Brewster  wanted  to  see  him — "just  to  talk  over  mat- 
ters," "very  informally;"  "he  was  not  to  feel  com- 


THE  NET  AND  THE  BIRD.  69 

mitted  in  the  least;"  "of  course  his  convictions  would 
be  respected;"  and  Brewster  would  be  quite  candid 
with  him.  Miss  Brewster,  too,  would  be  very  glad  to 
renew  the  agreeable  acquaintance  she  had  already  made 
in  Washington. 

Carroll  went  to  Brewster's— to  oblige  his  friend,  as 
he  said  to  himself;  but  really  because  he  was  not  un- 
willing to  be  tempted.  He  was  in  that  dubious  state 
of  virtue,  which,  under  pretense  of  defying  tempta- 
tion, anticipates,  as  a  reward  for  one's  greater  boldness 
in  encountering  it,  the  pleasure  of  finally  yielding;  as 
he  who  in  battle  runs  bravely  at  the  enemy  in  order 
to  be  captured.  He  said  to  himself  that  he  only  want- 
ed to  know  Brewster's  purpose,  and  belittled  his  own 
suspicions  of  his  real  motives.  Besides,  silence  was 
perhaps  best.  Very  likely  he  would  be  doing  great 
harm  in  aiding  his  opponents;  these  affairs  are  so  com- 
plicated. 

To  Carroll's  surprise,  Brewster  did  not  introduce  the 
subject.  He  talked,  without  apparent  reservation,  of 
his  plans  for  the  campaign  and  laughed  heartily  at  his 
opponents,  who,  having  for  years  availed  themselves 
of  the  same  means,  now  betrayed  much  virtuous  in- 
dignation at  the  use  of  government  officials  in  aid  of 
a  candidate's  election.  Carroll  .felt  a  little  piqued  at 
Brewster's  implied  contempt  for  his  influence.  There 
was  neither  virtue  nor  happiness  in  resistance  when 
there  was  nothing  to  resist.  His  host  .was  invariably 
cordial  and  attentive;  and  Winifred  devoted  herself 
to  their  guest's  entertainment.  There  were  dinners, 
picnics,  parties,  excursions;  by  the  end  of  the  week, 


70  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

Carroll  found  that  in  her  absence,  time  was  drugged 
with  the  morphia  of  ennui.  His  previous  acquain- 
tance with  her,  had  left  a  most  pleasing  impression, 
and  he  had  more  than  once  wished  for  the  opportunity 
he  now  enjoyed. 

One  evening  the  two  came  out  on  the  broad  veranda, 
and,  saying  that  he  smoked  more  than  was  good  for 
him,  he  supposed,  he  asked  permission  to  light  a  cigar; 
then  seating  himself  in  a  comfortable  lounging-chair, 
he  proceeded  to  enjoy  what  had  been  so  bountifully 
vouchsafed  him. 

All  his  conditions  and  surroundings  put  him  in  the 
happiest  mood.  A  luxurious  dinner,  a  cigar  of  fine 
flavor,  an  unconscious  digestion,  a  cool  breath  from  the 
harbor,  tempering  to  balminess  the  heat  of  the  day, 
contributed  to  a  self-satisfaction  at  once  so  pervasive, 
volatile  and  grateful,  that  he  was  quite  unaware  how 
happy  he  was.  A  scent  of  honeysuckles,  the  sunlight 
filtering  through  the  leaves  and  revealing  the  delicate, 
almost  imperceptible,  warmth  of  color  in  "Winifred's 
dark  brown  hair,  her  graceful  attitude  of  leisure  and 
repose  in  the  luxurious  curves  of  the  chair  she  sat  in, 
her  cameo  profile  against  the  screen  of  woodbine  at  the 
end  of  the  veranda,  the  flattering  suggestion  of  a  listen- 
ing mood  in  the  slight  deflection  toward  him  of  her 
head  and  shoulders,  her  refined  animation  and  sympa- 
thetic laugh,  smothered  his  scruples  and  self-inquisi- 
tion until  they  seemed  like  the  grim  and  dreary  storm 
that  yesterday  beset  the  ship  he  now  saw  gliding 
smoothly  into  the  smiling  harbor. 

The  orb  of  red  gold  visible  to  the  last  second,  as  it 


THE  NET  AND  THE  BIRD.  71 

sank  below  the  dark  line  of  waters,  gilded  with  pink, 
crimson,  and  amethyst,  the  few  stray  clouds,  not  yet 
driven  with  the  rest  of  the  herd  of  solemn  white  ones, 
home  to  the  eastern  horizon,  where  they  were  cow 
disappearing;  the  "wrinkled  sea"  beneath,  shone  like 
purple  jasper;  and  the  gathering  gloom  re-lit  the  twi- 
light with  an  after-glow  of  opal  and  pale  blue,  trans- 
ferring a  shell-like  luster  to  the  white  sails,  which  were 
sailing  out  into  the  darkness. 

"  Of  course  I  have  done  something  to  deserve  all 
this,"  said  Carroll  gracefully  and  eloquently,  including, 
with  a  wave  of  his  hand  the  luxury  of  his  immediate 
environment  and' the  splendid  picture  of  earth  and  sky 
in  the  distance.  "  I'm  not  so  sure  which  of  my  many 
virtues  it  is,  though." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  your  humility,"  suggested  "Winifred, 
with  a  light  laugh. 

"  Yery  likely;  I  had  not  thought  of  that." 

"Which  only  shows  how  unconscious  and  natural 
it  is." 

"  Second  nature,  if  any,  I  presume.  What  a  sun- 
set it  is,"  he  went  on.  "  I  wonder  why  all,  or  nearly 
all,  of  our  American  statesmen  have  neglected  our  sun- 
sets. Something  surely  might  be  done  by  way  of 
contrasting  them  with  the  inferior  foreign  produc- 
tions and  advocating  a  protective  tariff  for  their  en- 
couragement. An  American  poet  has  complimented 
the  skies  for  furnishing  us  with  a  national  ensign,  and 
why  should  n't  we  develop  this  native  industry  until 
we  are  as  proud  of  our  clouds  as  we  are  of  our  iron 
and  our  crops?" 


72  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"  Is  that  question  addressed  to  me  or  the  American 
orator's  audience? "  she  asked,  laying  down  a  bit  of 
embroidery  in  her  lap  and  looking  off.  "  If  you  ask 
me,  I  shall  refuse  to  commit  myself.  I  used  to  be 
a  good  deal  disturbed  about  the  crops,  though.  Every- 
body talked  as  if  something  dreadful  might  happen 
to  them;  but  there  never  did,  and  so  I  concluded  not 
to  waste  my  emotion,  and  ever  after  felt  comfortable 
and  happy." 

"  Yes,  I  imagine  it  must  have  taken  a  great  weight 
from  your  mind,"  said  Carroll,  so  cynical,  from  habit, 
that  he  fell  into  it  even  with  an  artless  young  woman. 

"  Now,  you  are  laughing  at  me,  Mr.  Carroll.  But 
I  do  not  know  why  ray  worrying  won't  do  as  much 
good  as  anybody's." 

"  There  is  something  to  be  said  in  favor  of  that, 
but  you  should  not  worry  at  all." 

"  No,  I  've  often  said  so  to  myself,  just  as  gentle- 
men say  they  ought  not  to  smoke  so  much,  and  keep 
on  doing  it.  But  then  I  generally  worry  about  trifles 
— the  housekeeping,  or  father's  bad  colds,  and  whether 
I  can  have  the  same  dress-maker  twice  in  succession ; 
the  very  day  I  want  her." 

"  Yet  it's  very  nattering  and  comfortable  to  have 
somebody  worrying  about  you.  That's  one  pleasure  I 
have  managed  to  miss,  at  least  since  I  was  a  youngster 
and  afforded  my  parents  all  the  opportunities  of  that 
kind  they  cared  for.  If  you  will  persist  in  the  bad 
practice,  I  would  like  very  much  to  be  added  to  your 
list." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  very  complimentary,"  she  replied, 


THE  NET  AND  THE  BIRD.  73 

"  after  saying  that  I  either  worried  about  trifles  or 
when  it  did  no  good." 

"  But  it  would  do  me  a  great  deal  of  good,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  afraid  that 's  the^way  with  you  luxurious  men 
of  the  world;  you'd  like  a  new  sensation  at  any  cost 
to  a  woman.  Besides,  how  can  one  feel  greatly  troubled 
for  a  prosperous  and  popular  man." 

"  Well,  perhaps  he  may  need  it  the  most.  He  cer- 
tainly ought  to  crave  something  higher  than  worldly 
success;  don't  you  think  so?" 

She  did  not  answer;  for,  there  suddenly  appeared  in 
the  twilight  a  well-shaped  young  fellow,  whose  loung- 
ing*air  and  gait  contradicted  his  youthful  elasticity 
and  vigor  of  body.  He  was  dressed  in  a  grayish  suit, 
and,  as  he  bade  Miss  Winifred  "  good  evening," 
gracefully  raised  a  light,  narrow-brimmed  hat,  trimmed 
with  blue  ribbon,  and  seated  himself  with  familiar 
demeanor,  upon  the  upper  step  of  the  veranda. 

"  O,  Dean,  is  it  you !  I  thought  you  would  have  been 
at  Orion  II;  1  ^o-night — at  your  father's  meeting." 

Then  she  presented  Mr.  Dean  Stratton  to  Mr.  Carroll. 

"No"  replied  the  young  man,  "I'm  already  ortho- 
dox on  the  subject,  and  so  I  told  the  old  gentleman 
that,  if  it  was  all  the  same  to  him,  some  man  who 
needed  his  instruction  might  have  my  share  of  the 
room.  Mr.  Carroll,  I  suppose,  will  say  that  there  may 
be  two  sides  to  this  question." 

"  I  think,"  said  Carroll,  "  that  most  questions  are 
like  the  elephant  which  the  blind  men  undertook  to 
describe.  One  who  got  hold  of  his  leg,  said  an  ele- 
phant was  like  a  tree;  the  man  who  grasped  his  tail, 


74  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

said  lie  was  like  a  rope;  the  fellow  who  felt  of  his  ear 
said  he  was  like  a  palm  leaf,  and  the  one  whom  the 
beast  took  in  his  trunk  and  chucked  into  a  tank  said 
he  was  a  sea-serpent.  I  am  not  certain  that  that's  an 
entirely  accurate  report  of  the  occurrence,  but  it  is  near 
enough  for  the  purpose." 

The  conversation  drifted  away  to  other  topics.  Car- 
"roll's  growing  admiration  of  Miss  Winifred  and  his 
consequent  jealousy  soon  detected  in  the  manner  of  his 
two  companions  something  which  disquieted  him  a 
good  deal.  Dean's  demeanor  had  a  confidential  flavor, 
with  a  half-apparent  sense  of  possession  and  security; 
and  Carroll  imagined  that  he  heard  an  added  tender- 
ness in  her  tones  when  she  spoke  to  the  young  man. 

Resenting  ever  so  slight  a  hint  of  some  one  else's 
possible  claim  to  her,  he  grew  unhappy,  and  almost 
impatient  of  the  politeness  which  forced  him  to  sit 
chatting  with  them  about  different  and  indifferent 
subjects.  Finally,  disgusted  with  the  interruptions 
he  had  suffered  at  so  interesting  a  point  in  his  talk 
with  her,  he  joined  Brewster  in  the  library. 

The  latter  looked  up  as  if  surprised  at  his  entrance, 
and  in  reply  Carroll  said:  "Miss  Winifred  has  com- 
pany— Mr.  Dean  Stratton — and  as  three  make  a  crowd, 
I  came  away." 

Brewster,  frowning  slightly,  which,  of  course,  was 
not  lost  upon  Carroll,  said :  "  ires,  a  neighbor's  boy — 
I  might  almost  call  him.  He  and  Winifred  were  in- 
timate friends  before  either  of  them  could  speak." 

"Their  learning  to  speak  does  not  seem  to  have 
broken  their  friendship,"  said  Carroll. 


THE  NET  AND  THE  BIBD.  75 

He  was  sitting  iii  a  strong  light,  where  Brewster 
could  see  every  change  in  expression  and  narrowly 
watch  him.  lie  made  no  reply,  and  Carroll  added : 
"That  is  a  very  romantic  sort  of  attachment;  and  your 
knowing  the  young  man  from  his  youth  up,  must  re- 
lieve you  from  all  anxiety." 

Brewster  again  looked  at  him,  as  he  answered: 

"  My  knowing  him  well  might  work  quite  as  much 
to  his  disadvantage  as  otherwise." 

"Perhaps;  but  a  feeling  that  is  the  outgrowth  of 
years  must  have  taken  deep  root  in  such  a  nature  as 
hers." 

"  Winifred  is  too  affectionate  and  obedient  not  to 
be  greatly  influenced  by  my  preferences,"  said  Brew- 
ster, "  so  far  at  least  as  they  are  reasonable." 

"  She  being  the  judge  of  their  reasonableness,"  said 
Carroll. 

"  Young  Stratton  is  not  capable  of  rendering  me  the 
slightest  service,"  Brewster  went  on.  "His  father, 
who,  you  know,  is  on  the  other  side,  is  a  strong  man; 
but  the  boy  is  a  good  deal  of  a  dawdler." 

Nothing  further  was  said  on  the  subject;  indeed, 
there  was  no  need  or  propriety  in  saying  more;  but 
after  Carroll  reached  his  room  that  night,  he  sat  down 
by  the  window  and  communed  with  himself.  All  his 
better  instincts  forbade  his  yielding  to  the  bribe  that 
had  just  been  offered  him.  He  was  not  insincere;  he 
could  be  ardent  and  impetuous.  He  could  love  a  wo- 
man with  great  intensity  and  a  man  with  honest  loyal- 
ty. But  the  latest  emotiort,  by  whatsoever  or  whom- 
soever excited,  generally  triumphed  over  previous  ones, 


76  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

giving  to  his  character  a  certain,  or  rather  an  uncer- 
tain, instability,  and  to  his  moods  a  flavor  of  fickle- 
ness. Winifred's  loveliness  had  greatly  taken  posses- 
sion of  him,  and,  although  he  was  not  yet  ready  to 
barter  or  compromise  convictions  which  would  be 
perilously  involved  by  these  new  relations  to  Brewster, 
he  was  ready  to  risk  them  in  the  hazards  of  a  men- 
tal debate  on  the  subject. 

"  It  would  pain  Wharton,  I  suppose,  if  he  knew," 
he  said  to  himself,  "  but  then,  if  he  knows  at  all  he 
knows  the  whole.  I  can't  throw  away  this  chance  of 
winning  her;  to  throw  away  all  that  such  an  alliance 
implies,  is  asking  too  much  from  &ny  mortal  man, — 
at  least  1  'm  not  made  of  the  stuff  that  can  calmly  re- 
sist it.  What  did  I  come  here  for?  I  might  have 
known  how  it  would  end.  I  suppose  I  came  because  I 
knew — or  hoped.  I  can  no  more  get  down  to  solid 
ground  again  than  if  I  were  Mahomet's  coffin.  That  is 
the  first  hint  the  old  man 's  given  of  his  caring  about 
my  movements.  Pshaw!  the  idea  that  he  doesn't  care. 
He  would  n't  be  such  a  fool.  It  's  wretched  business, 
this  letting  a  fellow-creature  put  a  muzzle  on  you ;  but 
by  Jove,  what  would  n't  a  man  be,  do,  or  suffer,  for  the 
sake  of  getting  lier\  I  'd  be  as  dumb  as  the  sphinx,  or 
as  noisy  as  that  mill  the  rest  of  my  life.  What  a 
charming  creature  at  a  dinner  or  a  reception !  A  little 
more  color,  perhaps,  but  she'd  soon  get  that!  though 
just  to  have  her  at  your  own  breakfast-table,  would  be 
all  a  reasonable  man  could  ask." 

Then,  like  a  sting  of  conscience,  the  familiar  lines 
smote  him: 


THE  NET  AND  THE  BIRD.  77 

"I  could  not  love  thee,  dear,  so  much, 
Loved  I  not  honor  more." 

"  That  fellow  was  n't  dead  in  love  with  her"  he  added, 
after  a  pause,  "or  he  could  not  have  thought  so. 
Thunder,  man !  it's  twelve  o'clock,  and  you  're  spooning 
here  in  the  moonlight.  Even  her  rustic  swain  who,  it 
seems,  was  in  love  with  her  before  he  cut  his  teeth  is 
snoring  in  bed  by  this  time." 

And,  so  saying,  Carroll  retired. 


78  A  FAMOUS,  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER   YIIL 

THE  TEMPTATION. 

On  coming  down  stairs,  next  morning,  Carroll  found 
Brewster  in  the  library,  searching  the  congressional 
debates,  and  with  him  a  guest,  who  had  arrived  by  the 
early  train ;  but  who,  judging  from  Bre^vster's  apparent 
unconsciousness  of  his  existence,  should  have  found  it 
agreeable  to  depart  by  the  next  one.  Next  to  his 
white  hair,  black  moustache  arid  imperial,  which 
were  in  pleasing  contrast  with  a  fresh  complexion,  his 
most  conspicuous  feature  was  his  shoulders,  whose 
height  and  breadth  concealing  his  neck,  suggested  the 
symmetry  of  a  snow-man,  or  of  the  old-fashioned  gate- 
posts, surmounted  by  their  globes  at  the  entrance  of 
the  lawn;  but  his  face,  except  for  its  vanity,  would 
have  been  attractive,  even  in  spite  of  strong  marks  of 
self-indulgence,  and  of  an  artificial  pomposity  inflated 
almost  to  the  point  of  bursting.  Brewster  casually 
introducing  him  as  "  Mr.  Perceval,"  handed  Carroll 
the  morning  paper,  and  went  on  with  his  reading. 

"Ah!"  said  Perceval;  "very  glad  indeed,  to  make 
Mr.  Carroll's  acquaintance.  We  ought  to  know  each 
other,  for  we  are  men  of  brains.  Flatter  myself,  at 
least,  that  I  'm  worth  knowing." 

"  No  doubt  about  that,"  said   Mr.  Carroll,  gravely. 


THE  TEMPTATION.  79 

"I  have  only  been  waiting  for  leisure,  in  order  to  know 
you.  To  know  such  a  man  requires  the  time  and  at- 
tention I  have  not  yet  been  able  to  give  to  it." 

Puzzled  as  to  whether  this  was  serious  or  satirical, 
Perceval  relapsed  into  silence. 

"Another  clergyman  in  hot  water,"  said  Carroll, 
glancing  at  the  news. 

"Ah ! "  said  Brewster,  with  a  chuckle  so  delicately 
shaded  as  to  be  both  dignified  and  effective.  "  Same 
old  trouble,  I  suppose? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Churches  are  about  played  out,"  broke  in  Perceval. 
"  They  're  the  worst  humbugs  going.  But  they  've 
about  given  up  trying  to  whitewash  their  rascals  any 
more.  They  are  all  tarred  with  the  same  stick,  in  my 
opinion — a  lot  of  hypocrites — everyone  of  them — al- 
ways on  the  jump  to  cover  up  their  rottenness." 

"You  speak  as  if  you  had  a  personal  grievance?'' 
said  Brewster.  "I  never  knew  them  to  do  you  any 
harm — or  any  good." 

\  "  They  say  it  hurts  religion  to  turn  against  a  brother 
and  expose  him,"  continued  Perceval,  not  noticing 
Brewster's  commentary.  "  That  is,  they  're  afraid 
their  church  '11  go  all  to  pieces.  It  must  be  bad  all 
through,  or  they  wouldn't  be  so  skittish.  'Tis  n't  any 
of  their  business,  they  say,  to  turn  against  an.  erring 
brother.  The  world '11  do  it,  quick  enough,  without 
any  help  from  them.  That's  all  nonsense  in  rny  opin- 
ion— and  they  stick  to  their  Bible,  tough  stories  and 
all,  and  try  to  believe  it " 

"  Perceval,"   interrupted    Brewster,  "  '  They   say,' 


80  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

too,  that  there  are  two  kinds  of  fools  in  this  world — 

fools,  and  d fools.  I  wish  you'd  choose  once  for 

all  which  kind  you'll  belong  to,  and  stick  to  it;  you 
confuse  people,  shifting  about  so." 

Perceval,  looking  up  as  surprised  as  if  he  had  run  a 
steamboat  upon  a  snag,  gasped  for  more  words,  but 
Brewster's  puncture  reduced  his  bulky  vanity,  and 
making  no  answer,  he  shrank  away  somewhere. 

"  There  is  a  fellow,"  said  Brewster,  after  he  had  dis- 
appeared, "  who  is  always  talking  to  hear  himself  talk." 

"  I  can't  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  Carroll,  "for  it 
seems  to  me  that  if  he  but  fairly  heard  himself  once 
he  would  stop  it." 

"  He  is  a  relative,"  said  Brewster,  in  a  confidential 
tone,  "  and  in  my  younger  days,  when  I  was  more 
easily  deceived  than  I  flatter  myself  I  am  now,  he 
won  my  confidence  by  pretending  to  a  large  influence 
with  '  wire-pullers '  and  '  managers,'  and  retained  theirs 
by  pretending  to  be  on  confidential  terms  with  me.  I 
discovered  the  see-saw  of  imposition  and  threw  him 
overboard;  but  his  father,  my  .mother's  brother,  was 
very  good  to  me  when  I  was  a  lad,  and  so  I  have  al- 
ways taken  care  of  him." 

By  "  taking  care  of  him  "  Brewster  meant  that  by 
inserting  him  into  any  vacant  office  he  happened  to 
"  control,"  he  had  managed  to  make  the  public  sup- 
port his  relative.  In  his  earlier  life  Perceval  was  self- 
indulgent  to  excess,  but  age  and  grossness  threatening 
to  end  his  folly,  he  had  in  later  years,  exercised  more 
prudence.  Afraid  to  die,  but  not  to  lie,  this  immoral 
Falstaflian  courage  had  so  destroyed  his  trustworthi- 


THE  TEMPTATION.  81 

ness,  that  wherever  he  was  well  known  his  natural  tal- 
ent for  passing  himself  off  for  more  than  he  was  worth, 
was  no  longer  available.  And  so  he  had  become  a 
mere  pensioner  on  Brewster's  share  of  the  public 
bounty.  At  the  present  time,  and  in  order  to  keep 
him  out  of  mischief,  Brewster  employed  him  at  low 
wages  to  pick  up  various  misinformation  about  men 
and  affairs. 

Carroll  nodded  a  recognition  of  Brewster's  public 
and  vicarious  benevolence  toward  his  kinsman,  and  the 
major  proceeded: 

"  He  is  always  badly  swollen  with  what  seems  to  him 
valuable  intelligence,  and  in  as  constant  a  state  of  col- 
lapse when  exploded  by  a  sharp  thrust  of  common 
sense.  He  has  a  habit  of  looking  over  his  shoulder  as 
if  some  body  lurked  there  listening  to  his  thoughts  for 
the  purpose  of  anticipating  him  in  their  publication. 
He  calls,  in  almost  blood-curdling  tones,  for  his  let- 
ters, as  if  to  impress  the  postmaster  with  the  mysteri- 
ous and  probably  dangerous  state  secrets  contained  in 
them ;  and  when  public  questions  are  touched  upon,  he 
will  wrap  himself  in  a  solemnity  truly  appalling." 

At  this  moment  the  original  of  this  caricature  was 
heard  on  the  veranda,  addressing  "  cousin  Winifred," 
as  he  bade  her  an  effusive  "good  morning."  Brews- 
ter, saying  no  more,  glanced  at  the  newspaper  report 
of  Israel  Stratton's  speech  of  the  previous  evening, 
in  the  course  of  which  that  gentleman  had  indulged 
in  some  caustic  comments  upon  the  eminent  candidate's 
views  and  methods.  Throwing  it  down,  he  said,  with 
real  or  assumed  indignation: 
6 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


"  I  will  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  him.  He  has 
been  making  a  gross  personal  assault  upon  me.  I 
shall  give  Winifred  orders  to  discontinue  her  intimacy 
with  the  family." 

Carroll  trembled;  partly  with  the  consciousness  of 
the  allurement  which  gently  put  one  enticing  hand 
upon  him  and  with  the  other  softly  loosened  his 
armor,  and  slyly  unbuckled  •  his  sword,  caressing  his 
senses,  and  toying  with  his  manhood  thus  enervated 
by  the  joy  that  filled  him.  He  gave  himself  up  to 
the  enchantment,  and  in  his  exultation,  cast  all  but 
his  darling  wishes  to  the  winds. 

This  feeling  was  heightened  by  her  entrance,  fresh 
from  an  unbroken  night's  rest,  and  a  short  stroll  up- 
on the  lawn.  She  was  attired  in  a  pale  blue  morning 
dress,  and  with  the  grace  of  apparent  unconscious- 
ness, was  inserting  a  blush  rose  bud  into  the  luxuri- 
ant folds  of  her  hair,  while  a  delicate  cluster  of  mign- 
onette begemmed  her  spray-like  scarf  of  lace.  Per- 
ceval was  rolling  along  by  her  side,  and  she  seemed 
much  relieved  when  Carroll's  coming  forward  inter- 
rupted the  commonplaces  her  cousin  was  droning  into 
her  ears. 

As  Carroll  walked  and  chatted  by  her  side  on  the  way 
to  the  breakfast  room,  his  questionings  of  the  night 
before  seemed  to  him  like  the  distorted  sights  and 
sounds  which  the  sleepless  imagination  creates  in  the 
darkness.  He  wondered  now  where  they  came  from, 
and  how  they  found  room  or  welcome  in  his  mind. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  take  a  run  of  a  week  or  two 
off  the  coast,"  said  Brewster  to  him.  "  I  shall  go  to 


THE  TEMPTATION.  83 

the  city  this  afternoon  to  be  absent  several  days,  but 
Miss  Winifred  can  invite  her  aunt  and  cousins,  and 
Tom  will  take  charge  of  the  expedition." 

"  Thank  you ! ".  replied  Carroll,  radiantly,  as  he 
thought  of  the  pleasant  intimacy  of  such  an  excur- 
sion. From  day  to  day  during  the  exhilirating  and 
tireless  ride,  from  night  to  night  under  the  moon  and 
stars,  he  would  have  her  to  talk  to,  to  listen  to,  to 
watch  silently,  to  be  conscious  of  perpetually,  both  in 
the  prolonged  romance  of  the  voyage  and  the  novel- 
ty of  its  many  incidents. 

"  I  did  not  know  you  owned  a  yacht,"  he  added. 

"  Kot  I,"  said  Brewster.  "  I  don't  propose  furnish- 
ing these  newspaper  men  with  a  month's  talk  about 
my  yacht.  I  know  better  than  that.  But  my  brother- 
in-law  owns  one  which  is  at  our  disposal.  For  myself, 
I  never  go.  I  prefer  the  solid  ground,  whose  worst 
pranks  are  an  earthquake  away  off  somewhere  else,  or 
a  hole  in  the  road,  for  which  you  can  recover  dam- 
ages."  ^ 

"  I  wish  you'd  put  me  in  charge  of  the  yacht,  papa," 
said  Winifred.  "  Tom's  always  wanting  to  go  to  the 
place  where  he  pulled  up  a  twenty-pound  blue  fish  at 
one  p.  m.,  Thursday,  Aug.  10,  the  summer  of '70,  or  '74, 
or  '75,  or  whichever  it  may  be;  and  he  will  steer  for 
it,  or  seem  to,  as  if  he  had  left  a  stone  there  fora  land- 
mark— if  that's  correct  to  say — and  could  see  it  as  far 
as  you  can  see  Bunker  Hill  monument.  Then  he  al- 
ways remembers  where  he  shot  a  peculiar  kind  of 
duck,  on  some  afternoon  of  a  certain  month  in  a  special 
year  of  grace;  and  insists  on  anchoring  till  the  anni- 


84  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

versary  comes  round,  in  the  apparent  belief  that  that 
particular  species  of  fowl  is  addicted  to  the  annual 
habits  of  Christmas  or  Fourth  of  July." 

"And  where  would  you  go?"  asked  her  father. 

"  I'd  do  as  Tom  and  I  used  to  in  the  carriage — shut 
our  eyes  as  long  as  our  patience  held  out  and  then  open 
them  to  see  where  we  were." 

"You  have  unusual  qualifications  for  a  skipper," 
commented  her  father. 

"She  would  make  a  good  president,"  said  Carroll, 
with  frank  cynicism. 

Brewster  laughed,  but  the  look  in  his  eyes,  if  Carroll 
had  noticed,  was  not  agreeable. 

"0,  I  don't  want  '•  to  be  skipper,"  said  Winifred ; 
"  that  implies  responsibility,  but  I'd  like  to  give  gen- 
eral directions  at  the  start  that  we  are  not  to  have  any 
programme  whatever,  but  to  go  where  we  like." 

"  O,  no,  if  you'll  excuse  me,  not  even  where  we  like," 
interposed  Carroll,  "  because  that  implies  purpose 
and  forethought  which  in  turn  implies  exertion,  and 
that  by  so  much  impairs  the  bliss  of  perfect  indol- 
ence." 

"  You  are  right,"  she  said.  "  Papa  shall  do  it  for 
us.  He  is  to  give  sealed  orders  to  Tom,  not  to  be  open- 
ed until  we  are  outside,  and  to  be  implicitly  followed 
on  penalty  of  court  martial  for  mutiny." 

"  That's  a  good  plan,"  said  Perceval,  "  I  would  like 
that.  You  might  intrust  them  to  me,  major,  and  I'll 
see  that  their  secrecy  is  respected." 

Perceval's  intimation  that  he  expected  to  be  of  the 
party  naturally  disgusted  Carroll,  while  Winifred,  too 


THE  TEMPTATION.  85 

kindhearted  to  say  disagreeable  things,  even  to  Perce- 
val, who,  to  put  it  mildly,  she  thought  a  dreadful  bore, 
looked  imploringly  at  her  father. 

The  latter,  however,  in  the  furtherance  of  his  own 
plans,  had  anticipated  her. 

"  They  will  probably  go  half-way  across  the  Atlantic 
before  they  are  done  with  it,"  said  he. 

Perceval  grew  a  little  pale.  He  had  thought  only 
of  a  day's  excursion  within  sight  of  land,  where  in  case 
of  anything  's  happening,  he  could  be  rescued  or  con- 
trive to  get  ashore.  He  shrank  from  this  prospect  of 
ocean  perils  to  the  precious  casket  of  important  public 
information,  labeled  Augustus  Perceval.  He  owed  a 
duty  to  his  fellow  citizens  not  to  endanger  it,  and  in  a 
self-sacrificing  tone,  replied: 

"O,  is  that  the  programme?  I  am  very  sorry,  but 
my  engagements  will  not  permit  me  to  be  gone  so  long 
as  that." 

"  It  is  too  bad,"  said  Brewster,  you  would  enjoy  it 
so  much." 

"  It's  not  polite  to  urge  him,"  said  Tom,  who  had 
just  come  down  to  breakfast.  "  He  detests  the  sea, 
and  if  we  have  any  such  weather  as  we  had  the  middle 
of  July,  1869,  and  '73,  most  of  you  will  wish  you  had  n't 
come." 

"It's  impossible  for  me  even  to  think  of- going/' 
said  Perceval,  quite  demoralized  by  these  attacks. 

"  I  '11  send  a  message  to  Aunt  Josephine  and  the 
girls  immediately,"  said  "Winifred  rising  from  the 
table,  while  the  others  strolled  into  the  library. 

"  Bv  the  way,"  said  Perceval,  dropping  into  a  chair 


86  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

after  handing  them  a  light  for  their  cigars,  and  draw- 
ing a  sigh  of  contentment  with  the  excel  lent  breakfast 
he  had  just  disposed  of,  "  I  had  a  talk  with  Congress- 
man Bunkery,  from  the  state  of  '  Injannen*  lie  spoke 
at  Norwich  last  night.  You  know  him  I  suppose." 
"  O  yes,"  said  Carroll,  "  I  've  seen  him  in  his  native 
jungle." 

"  Well,  do  you  know,  he 's  a  man,  I  should  say,  that 
can  lay  over  most  of  our  statesmen  and  give  'em  odds. 
I  said  to  him,  'Bunkery,  my  dear  fellow,  how  is  it  you 
get  such  a  powerful  hold  on  these  public  questions.  1 
wish  I  could  do  it.'  '  O  it 's  mighty  easy,  my  dear 
boy,'  said  he.  'Study  it  out,  study  it  out.  These 
shylocks  and  gold-bugs  pretend  it's  a  work  for  a  life- 
time, but  that's  all  humbug.  It 's  because  they  don 't 
want  anybody  else  to  look  into  it  and  expose  em.'  " 

"Yes,  I  have  talked  with  him,"  said  Carroll,  amused 
at  Perceval's  assumption  of  familiarity  with  this  em- 
inent western  statesman,  "  and  he  told  me  how  he  did 
it.  He  said,  to  me:  "  One  evening  after  I  got  'the 
boys '  all  tucked  up  snug  and  warm  in  their  little 
post  offices,  I  felt  pretty  well  used  up,  as  you  can  im- 
agine. I  was  too  tired  for  billiards  and  there  was  no 
theater  worth  going  to,  so  I  thought  1  'd  just  sit  down 
and  take  a  shy  at  this  finance  business  they  were  talk- 
ing so  much  about.  I  stepped  up  to  Trottem's  room 
— boarded  in  the  same  house  with  me,  you  know,  and 
claimed  to  be  posted — and  I  asked  him  for  a  book  or 
two.  I  sort  'o  looked  through  'em  and  got  all  the  ideas 
I  could  make  any  use  of.  It 's  easy  enough,  said  Bun- 
kery, if  you  only  know  how.  I  should  think  somebody 


THE  TEMPTATION.  87 

might  write  a  little  tract  and  call  it  l  Finance  Before 
Bed-Time,'  I  'd  guarantee  it  a  big  sale.  There  'd  be 
three  or  four  hundred  congressmen  to  begin  with,  and 
as  many  more  candidates.'  " 

In  spite  of  the  sober  way  in  which  Carroll  thus  bur- 
lesqued the  politicians  who  (in  18 — )affected  to  de- 
spise the  importance  of  studying  politics  and  finance, 
Perceval  began  to  see  that  this  visitor  was  ridiculing 
his  admiration  of  his  new  idol. 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  asked  Brewster,  ab- 
ruptly, laying  down  his  book. 

"  I  was  telling  about  Bunkery,"  said  Perceval,  a 
little  abashed;  "he's  just  from  the  west.  It's  de- 
lightful to  hear  him  talk." 

"  I  wish  he  'd  fish  on  his  own  side  of  the  stream,"  said 
Brewster;  "you  can  't  catch  much  with  his  bait  down 
this  way." 

"  Bunkery  's  the  most  sincere  admirer  of  self-govern- 
ment I  know  of,"  said  Carroll;  "  he  does  n't  even  believe 
that  the  verb  should  be  governed  by  the  nominative  case ; 
at  least  one  would  think  he  did  n't,  to  hear  him  talk." 

"Well,"  retorted  Perceval,  excited  and  irritated, 
"  I  'm  a  strict  party  man,  and  /do  n't  believe  in  criti- 
cizing the  fellows  that  pull  with  me,  or  in  finding 
fault  with  my  party,  or  making  a  parade  of  my  virtue, 
by  a  great  to-do  about  its  badness.  It 's  a  fouling  of 
one's  own  nest,  in  my  opinion.  I  believe  in  my 
party;  it's  my  religion,  my  church,  and  my  Bible, 
and  I  swear  by  whatever  it  says.  I  go  in  for  sticking 
to  it,  and  standing  by  it,  and  by  the  men  in  it 
What's  the  use  of  holding  them  up  to  ridicule?  You 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


can  't  keep  a  party  together  in  that  way.  It  only 
hurts  the  party — when  these  nice  miss-nancyish  fel- 
lows are  allowed  to  turn  up  their  delicate  noses  at 
the  men  who  do  all  the  dirty — I  would  say  the  work — 
and  take  all  the  hard  knocks.  Where  '11  your  party 
be?  No  sir;  I  say,  if  there 's  any  hard  talking  to  be 
done  about  our  folks,  let  the  other  fellows  do  it. 
They  '11  do  it  fast  enough.  It 's  not  my  business  to  go 
pokin'  round  for  bad  spots  and  calling  on  everybody 
to  come  and  see  'em." 

"  Yes,"  said  Carroll,  amused  at  Perceval's  zeal,  "  it 's 
almost  as  bad  as  it  is  for  the  churches." 

"  Well,"  said  Perceval,  after  a  long  pause,  "  Bunkery 
said  one  thing  last  night  that  gave  me  an  idea." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Brewster,  "  that  is  the 
most  extraordinary  thing  I  ever  knew  any  one  to  say 
of  him." 

But  Perceval,  not  relishing  any  further  encounters, 
strolled  oft'  without  repeating  Bunkery's  wisdom. 

"I  can  't  be  absent  more  than  a  week  or  ten  days, 
if  you  please,"  said  Carroll.  "  I  must  be  laying  out 
my  work  for  the  fall." 

"  If  the  question  is  not  impertinent,  what  do  you 
intend  doing?"  asked  Brewster,  carelessly. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  replied  Carroll,  with  affected 
unconcern.  "  In  truth,  I  do  n't  know.  I  think  it 
would  take  the  wisdom  of  Solomon  in  re  the  two 
women  and  the  child  to  decide  me." 

"If  I  remember  rightly,  he  proposed  splitting  the 
difference,"  answered  Brewster.  "  That  is  a  good  way 
when  you  're  much  in  doubt." 


THE  TEMPTATION.  89 


Carroll  made  no  reply  but  sat  intently  musing  and 
his  face,  a  tolerably  frank  one,  betrayed  bis  perplexity. 
Brewster's  quick  eye  noticed  it,  and  he  said  quietly: 

"  Abuse  plaintiff's  attorney!  " 

Carroll,  uncomfortable  at  having  his  thoughts  read 
so  easily,  pretended  not  to  understand. 

"Why,"  said  Brewster,  "attack  their  candidate!" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Carroll, "  that 's  always  safe;" — "  and 
not  so  embarrassing,"  he  thought. 

Demoralization  was  setting  in  rapidly.  Brewster's 
domestic  frankness,  his  confidential  deference  to  Car- 
roll's own  ideas  about  the  Western  politician  and  his 
private  confession  of  the  humbug  he  publicly  honored, 
nattered  Carroll's  vanity.  He  accepted,  and  was  eager  to 
accept  this  attitude  as  proof  of  Brewster's  being  at  least 
only  half  as  black  as  he  was  painted,  and  in  case  of  his 
election,  of  his  disappointing  both  friends  and  foes. 
He  was  eagerly  looking  for  any  signs  of  the  virtues  he 
deemed  cardinal  in  a  public  man;  and,  had  Brewster 
taken  the  trouble  to  array  himself  in  the  silk  stock- 
ings, knee-breeches  and  cocked-hat  of  the  Fathers  of 
the  Republic,  Carroll,  in  his  present  temper,  was  al- 
most capable  of  accepting  him  as  one  of  them — redolent 
with  their  antique  uprightness  and  haughty  honesty. 

But  he  was  prevented  from  taking  the  final  plunge 
by  the  free  audience  he  was  still  disposed  to  give  his 
conscience; — or  perhaps  it  was  his  pride  which  clam- 
ored for  a  hearing.  When  he  began  to  listen  he  was 
not  a  little  startled  at  his  memory  which  stood  up 
in  his  miniature  court  and  testified  to  his  past  career. 

It  recited  his  speech  on  the  "  silver  craze  "  which  he 


90  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

had  described  as  one  of  those  "gusts  of  folly"  which 
at  times  sweep  away  great  masses  of  people — level 
heads  among  them,  too.  Many,  he  said,  were  innocent 
victims  of  this  delusion,  but  there  were  not  lacking 
those  whose  relish  for  dishonesty  under  some  harmless 
phrase,  is  like  the  craving  for  alcohol  under  the  name 
of  "  stomach  bitters."  Their  love  for  the  old  silver 
dollar  was  very  touching  and  rose  in  fervor  as  the 
value  of  the  dollar  fell.  They  baptized  it,  "  the  dollar 
of  the  fathers,"  and  like  magi,  from  the  west,  instead 
of  the  east,  fell  down  and  worshiped  it.  Gold,  they 
said,  was  a  false  and  craven  deity,  which  left  its  wor- 
shipers in  the  lurch.  Their  deity  could  work  mira- 
cles, the  chief  of  which,  according  to  Carroll,  was  to 
pay  a  hundred  cents  of  debt  with  eighty  cents  of  met- 
al. The  mint  had  been  pouring  out  millions  a  year. 
Other  civilized  nations  had  ceased  coining  it.  Let 
the  Americans  and  Chinese  keep  at  it!  they  said. 
Attempts  had  been  made  to  return  to  a  gold  basis,  but 
the  old  cry  of  contraction  and  the  suffering  it  entailed 
had  frightened  time-serving  congressmen  from  drying 
up  the  silver  stream.  It  will  drive  gold  from  the 
country,  and  the  paper  money,  redeemable  in  silver, 
will  fall  below  par.  Betting  will  take  the  place  of 
commerce;  the  values  of  everything,  or  rather  the  prices 
of  everything  will  advance — all  but  wages,  as  usual 
they  will  straggle  in  the  rear.  That  Js  what  you  said, 
said  memory,  the  witness. 

"  Yes,"  said  Carroll,  "  that  was  putting  it  pretty 
strong." 

And  then,  continued  his  memory,  there  are  your 


THE  TEMPTATION.  91 

remarks  on  the  revival  of  the  paper  money  mania. 
You  said  that,  vigorous  and  lusty,  it  will  spring  to 
life  again.  "See," its  advocates  will  say, — that's  the 
way  you  put  it,  echoed  his  memory, — "  see  what 
has  come  from  the  so-called  depreciation  of  silver! 
Prices  have  advanced,  and  prosperity  has  flown  in  up- 
on us  as  rich  harvests  follow  the  flood  of  the  Nile. 
The  working  classes  have  not  yet  felt  it,  because  the 
fields  of  speculation,  near  the  source  and  first  reached 
by  the  flood,  absorbed  all  its  benefits.  We  want  a  del- 
uge which  will  irrigate  the  whole  community.  By 
skillful  playing  on  these  themes,  you  said,  the  Ameri- 
can public  will  find  itself  plunged  into  another  discus- 
sion as  to  whether  half  a  loaf  is  better  than  no  bread. 
He  was  hopelessly  committed  against  all  schemes 
for  issuing  inflated  paper  and  getting  it  into  circula- 
tion; as  well  as  against  Brewster's  methods,  and  ma- 
chinery. Yet  now,  he  proposed  putting  this  behind 
him,  and  turning  away  from  the  duty  to  which  his 
honest  foresight  and  his  talents  assigned  him.  His 
objections  to  the  opposition  party  did  not  release  him 
from  a  sense  of  his  moral  obligations  to  his  other 
principles.  In  his  conscientious  moods  he  had  al- 
ways felt  that  the  duty  of  even  a  disgusted  patriot  was 
to  see  that  right  principles  had  a  champion,  leaving 
all  other  consequences  to  a  power  beyond  his  own. 
Notwithstanding  this  it  appeared  to  him  just  now,  an 
easy  matter  to  keep  silence  when  silence  might  buy  so 
much.  Feeling  Brewster's  presence  unfavorable  to  the 
calm  review  which  this  crisis  in  his  life  called  for,  he 
went  out  for  a  solitary  walk. 


92  A  FAMOUS'  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER   IX. 
THE  STRUGGLE. 

SOON  after  leaving  Brewster's  house,  Carroll  encoun- 
tered two  men  in  earnest  conversation.  On  his  com- 
ing up,  they  separated,  and  Mr.  Stratton's  ruddy  face, 
with  its  snow-white  drapery  of  hair  and  beard,  was 
smiling  on  Carroll,  while  his  hearty  grasp  gave  him 
friendly  greeting. 

"  You  're  at  Brewster's,  I  understand.  I  should 
have  been  happy  to  have  seen  you,  or  to  see  you 'now, 
at  my  house." 

"  The  days  have  slipped  away,"  replied  Carroll,  "  and 
I  've  intended  every  morning  to  leave  on  the  evening 
train,"  and  every  night  to  be  off  in  the  morning." 

"  Brewster  's  carrying  things  with  a  high  hand," 
continued  Stratton.  "There  's  Jaycox,  one  of  his 
men,  just  left  me:  one  of  his  best  men  too;  who, 
besides  knowing  his  business,  is  reflective  and  has 
unusual  insight  into  affairs.  He  dares  to  speak 
his  mind,  and  is  not  led  away  by  these  will-o'-the- 
wisps  that  cheat  so  many  of  his  fellows.  So  Brew- 
ster trumps  up  something  about  his  being  too  expensive 
a  man,  and  kicks  him  out.  The  real  reason  is  that  the 
man's  conscience  won't  let  him  choke  down  the  truth 


THE  STRUGGLE.  93 


that 's  in  him,  and  Brewster  proposes  to  starve  him. 
Excuse  me  for  rattling  on  about  a  person  whose  hos- 
pitality you  are  enjoying,but  I'm  too  indignant  to  keep 
still." 

"Perhaps  I  can  do  something  for  the  man,"  said 
Carroll. 

"  No,  I  think  not.  Brewster  won't  take  him  back 
— certainly  not  unless  he  promises  to  keep  quiet." 

"  And  won't  he  do  that  ?"  asked  Carroll,  eagerly. 

"  Do  it  ?  Why,  it  stirs  all  that 's  good  in  a  man  to 
hear  him.  He  's  in  much  distress.  His  wife,  whom 
he  loves  and  nurses  with  great  tenderness,  is  absolutely 
dependent  on  his  earning  a  considerable  income,  and 
as  he  stood  there,  just  now,  talking  about  his  future, 
I  saw  the  moisture  in  his  eyes.  He  wanted  me  to 
lend  him  a  small  sum  and  take  a  mortgage  on  his 
house.  I  refused  any  security,  and  then  he  refused 
to  borrow,  except  for  his  current  expenses.  He  's 
heroic  !" 

"  Yes,"  said  Carroll,  his  eyes  so  intent  upon  the 
ground  that  he  suddenly  felt  guilty  of  rudeness;  but 
he  had  been  quite  engrossed  both  in  listening  and 
thinking. 

Here  was  a  man  who  could  starve,  but  could  not 
submit  to  a  muzzle;  who,  even  to  buy  his  bread  withal, 
would  not  sell  his  birthright  or  his  conscience.  There 
was  such  a  reality  then  as  heroism  and  moral  courage; 
and  some  men  believed  in  it  more  than  they  believed 
even  in  food  and  raiment,  in  the  lust  of  the  flesh  and 
the  eye,  and  in  the  pride  of  life.  He,  too,  had  always 
believed  in  it;  but  he  had  never  before  had  to  determine 


94  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

how  much  he  believed  in  it.  All  these  things  had  been 
added  unto  him,  to  begin  with,  and  he  had  not  been 
obliged  to  seek  the  kingdom  of  heaven  before  he  got 
them. 

Apologizing  for  his  abstracted  manner  to  Mr.  Strat- 
ton,  who  stood  wondering  what  had  become  of  his 
usual  high  and  jovial  spirits,  and  exchanging  some 
commonplace  remarks,  he  took  his  leave,  and  turned 
back  to  Brewster's  house.  He  strode  rapidly  along 
with  that  free  swing  of  his — apparently  meaning 
to  acquire  a  momentum  which  would  carry  him 
quite  through  the  resisting  atmosphere  of  enticement 
now  environing  him.  He  would  make  some  excuse 
for  instant  departure,  dismiss  his  dreams,  and  be  a  free 
man  once  more. 

But  he  was  not  over  the  threshold  when  this  fine 
temper  began  softening.  He  was  greeted  by  the  rural 
ease  and  hospitality  of  the  half-open  front  door,  be- 
stowing a  happy  independence  of  the  draw-bridges 
and  port-cullises  which  life  in  a  large  city  erects. 
Open,  too,  was  the  wide  door-way  of  the  parlor.  He 
heard  a  sweet  voice  singing  Burns'  song  "  O !  wert  thou 
in  the  cauld  blast,"  set  to  Mendlessohn's  music.  She 
had  nearly  finished,  and  he  stopped  a  moment — 

"  The  desert  were  a  paradise, 
If  thou  wert  there,  if  thou  wert  there." 

Down  the  long  room  in  the  recess  near  the  window 
where  the  grand  piano  stood,  he  saw  the  pale  blue 
dress  against  the  background  of  lace  curtains,  which 
the  gentle  breeze  waved  into  alternate  light  and  shad- 
ow, and  the.  crown  of  warm  brown  hair  in  the  liea- 


THE  STRUGGLE.  95 


yen's  own  light  which  surrounds  fair  women.  All 
this  refinement  and  beauty  of  life  swept  into  rough 
oblivion  the  figure  of  the  workingman.  Its  sturdy 
crudeness,  its  valiant  but  uncouth  outlines,  were  out 
of  place  here;  they  jarred  upon  his  taste,  making  him 
impatient  with  the  admiration  they  had  just  raised 
within  him. 

"  How  warm  it  is  growing!"  she  said,  rising  as  he 
entered;  "  though  I  don't  dislike  warm  weather,  I  am 
longing  to  get  out  on  the  water.  There 's  the  fresh- 
ness and  the  sense  of  knowing  that  you're  going  no- 
where, and  that  it  does  n't  make  the  slightest  differ- 
ence when  you  get  there.  I  hope  you  like  it  as  much 
as  I  do." 

"Yes,"  he  said;  "though  I  had  not  quite  decided 
I  ought  to  go — 

u  Of  course  you  ought  to  go,"  said  she,  with  an  air 
of  sincerity;  and  then,  changing  from  her  breezy  con- 
fidence to  gentle  complaint,  added:  "Though  to  be 
sure  that 's  not  a  very  enthusiastic  way  of  talking 
about  an  intended  pleasure  excursion." 

This  was  all  so  charming  that,  instead  of  finishing 
his  sentence,  he  was  half  ashamed  of  having  begun  it. 
He  had  drawn  near  and  was  leaning  on  the  piano 
looking  as  if  he  wished  this  might  go  on  forever;  with 
no  torment  of  choice  and  duty;  only  an  uninterrupted 
delight  really  worth  calling  life.  Winifred,  noticing 
his  hesitation,  said  anxiously: 

"  I  hope  there's  no  question  of  ought  or  ought  not, 
in -the  case,  for  that  would  make  me  a  kind  of  Rhine 
maiden  tempting  you — "  (they  had  been  talking  of 


96  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

the  German  legend  the  night  before),  "and  that  is  far 
from  what  I  would  like  to  be;  but  I  have  no  doubt," 
she  added  in  a  lighter  mood,  "  you  can  well  be  trusted 
against  myself." 

A  thousand  emotions  were  stirred  within  hirn ; 
though  he  himself  lacked  the  fine  edge  which  only  the 
hardest  metal  can  take,  the  strength  of  her  conscience 
made  him  the  more  anxious  to  win  her. 

"  O,  no,"  he  replied,  "  there's  nothing  to  prevent  my 
going,"  and  so  she  turned  and  sat  down  to  the  piano 
again,  saying,  "  Tom  went  down  by  train  this  morn- 
ing, to  get  everything  ready,  and  we  can  follow  when 
we  like." 

Three  hours  afterward  Jaycox  was  trudging  up  the 
path  to  his  house  carrying  a  basket  laden  with  house- 
hold supplies  and  delicate  medicinal  preparations  for 
his  wife.  He  felt  depressed  at  the  necessity  of  his 
borrowing,  and  at  the  solemn  prospect  of  further  idle- 
ness; but  he  grew  calmer  and  stronger  in  resisting  the 
thought  of  surrendering  what  seemed  to  most  men  his 
quixotic  whims.  The  noise  of  wheels  in  the  road  at- 
tracted him,  and  turning,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
swiftly-rolling  barouche;  a  pair  of  glossy,  spirited  gray 
horses;  Miss  Winifred;  and  by  her  side  a  gentleman 
of  manly  proportions  and  a  bright,  frank,  still  youth- 
ful face.  In  a  few  seconds  they  were  out  of  sight  on 
the  cross-street  which  led  to  the  railroad  station. 


THE  CONQUEST.  97 


CHAPTEE  X. 

THE  CONQUEST. 

THE  morning  after  the  return  of  the  yachting  party 
Carroll  said,  "  I  must  go." 

"  Ah !"  said  Major  Brewster,  who  had  also  returned 
the  night  before,  "  we  shall  be  sorry." 

"  Thank  you,  but  I  must  begin  my  work." 

"  Every  man  knows  his  own  business.  So  I  never 
urge  anybody  to  stay,  after  he  says  he  must  go.  Of  all 
bores  your  hospitable  bore  who  undertakes  to  belittle 
the  importance  of  your  movements  is  the  worst." 

"  I  must  prepare  myself  for  the  campaign,"  said 
Carroll.  "  I  shall  take  your  advice  about  attacking 
the  other  side.  I  intend  making  continuous  appoint- 
ments until  election." 

"  That  is  a  pretty  long  pull,"  replied  Brewster. 

"  I  'm  quite  equal  to  it,"  said  Carroll;  "  I  shall  under- 
take to  serve  as  faithfully — as  if  things  had  turned  out 
differently  two  months  ago,  only  under  the  peculiar 
circumstances,  I  must  do  it  in  my  own  way." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Brewster  approvingly ;  "  you  can 
shape  your  own  course  far  better  than  I  or  any  one 
else  can  do  it  for  you." 
7 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


Miss  Winifred,  protected  from  the  cool  morning 
breeze  by  a  light,  white  knit  shawl,  was  walking  on  the 
veranda.  The  week  on  the  water  had  added  a  shade 
of  healthful  color  to  her  delicate  face,  which  with  her 
dignified  and  graceful  figure,  her  pretty  way  of  stop- 
ping to  greet  the  honeysuckles  that,  like  Eomeo,  had 
clambered  up  to  caress  her,  touched  Carroll  deeply, 
and  mingled  with  his  delight  at  seeing  her,  a  pang  at 
parting  from  her. 

"  I  have  come,"  he  said,  "  to  take  what  I  wish  I  did 
not  have  to  take — from  you!" 

«  What  is  that?"  she  asked. 

"  My  leave." 

"  I  'm  very  sorry,  indeed,  Mr.  Carroll;  though  I  was 
afraid  it  was  my  advice,"  she  added  laughingly.  "  But 
you  are  not  in  earnest  about  going?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  though  I  should  be  much  more 
in  earnest  about  staying,  if  it  were  possible." 

"  It 's  hardly  complimentary,  Mr.  Carroll,  to  run 
away  the  very  moment  you  touch  dry  land.  It  looks 
as  if  you  had  been  a  prisoner  aboard  the'yacht." 

"  On  the  contrary,  one  feels  quite  free  on  the  water, 
where  business,  public  opinion,  and  conventionalities 
can 't  lay  hands  on  you;  on  solid  ground  you  area 
slave  again." 

"  Women  feel  those  subtler  kinds  of  oppression,  but 
it  seems  to  me  if  I  were  a  man,  I  would  not  submit  to 
them." 

"O,  men  aren't  half  so  free  and  independent  as 
they  pretend.  Between  you  and  me,  though  we  boast 
a  good  deal,  we  are  a  set  of  impostors,  and  such  skill- 


THE  CONQUEST.  99 


fnl  and  practical  impostors  that  we  often  deceive  our- 
selves." 

"  Do  you  think  that  requires  much  skill?  Men  are 
never  free  from  vanity,  at  any  rate." 

"  Well,  we  must  be  quite  hopeless  if  we  are  not 
sometimes  emancipated  from  that  weakness." 

"  I  would  really  like  to  know  when ; — in  the  mil- 
lennium, or  the  next  world,  perhaps." 

"  When  a  woman  like  yourself,  says  honestly  what 
she  thinks  of  us." 

"  For  one,  I  have  n't  vanity  enough  to  believe  it." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand,  and  retain- 
ing hers  until  she  withdrew  it;  "  I  am  not  free,  and  I 
must  go.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  am  indebted 
for  the  pleasure  of  the  last  two  weeks." 

"  Thank  you !  You  are  very  good  to  say  so.  I  hope 
you  won't  try,  because  we  owe  you  so  much  more,  we 
should  be  embarrassed  for  a  reply." 

She  warded  off  his  expressions  of  feeling  so  pleas- 
antly, that  he  could  not  gain  a  foothold  for  his  pur- 
pose. He  was  almost  tempted  to  break  through  her 
delicate  reserve  and  tell  her  of  his  love  and  his  hopes, 
but  her  very  sweetness  and  refinement  warned  him 
against  any  impetuosity  likely  to  shock  her.  So, 
hoping  for  a  better  opportunity,  and,  for  the  sake  of 
touching  her  hand,  bidding  her  good-bye  again,  he 
stepped  into  the  carriage  and  was  driven  away. 

"  How  pleasant  he  is  !"  she  thought,  as  he  disap- 
peared, and  she  entered  the  house.  "  What  a  dismal 
line  of  carriages!"  she  added,  looking  at  the  half-dozen 
dark  heavy  vehicles  drawn  up  at  the  side  of  the  house, 


100  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

from  which  a  score  of  men,  in  two  separate  squads, 
had  alighted,  and  were  already  holding  conference 
with  her  father. 

The  first  was  a  deputation  of  the  Northwest  Labor 
League,  with  several  foolscap  sheets  of  confidence  in 
their  tried  and  trusted  leader,  as  per  resolution. 
This  "filled"  him  "with  pride;"  he  had  ever  been 
"  on  the  side  of  down-trodden  and  tax-eaten  labor," 
and  it  should  have  relief,  etc.,  etc. 

At  this  point  his  secretary  announced  the  honorable 
Knights  of  Eastern  Labor. 

"  Let  them  wait!"  said  the  Major,  impatiently; 
"  don't  you  see  I  am  engaged  on  important  business 
with  these  honorable  gentlemen  from  the  West  ?" 
Whereupon  the  gentlemen  of  the  Northwestern  Labor 
League  flattered  themselves  that  they  knew  a  work- 
ingman's  friend  when  they  saw  him. 

The  secretary  went  into  the  ante-room  and  informed 
the  representative  Knights  of  Eastern  Labor  that  Major 
Brewster  would  be  with  them  the  very  moment  he 
could  dismiss  some  visitors  who,  much  to  his  regret, 
were  detaining  him.  The  words  of  the  well-trained 
private  secretary  aroused  in  the  breasts  of  the  Eastern 
Labor  ^Representatives,  no  slight  contempt  for  the 
useless  persons  in  the  next  room  stupidly  wasting  the 
great  man's  time. 

They  were  soon  admitted  to  his  presence,  and  in  a 
brief  space  went  away  with  the  comfortable  assurance 
that  Brewster's  party  had  made  no  mistake  in  the 
selection  of  a  champion,  and  that  his  was  the  only  es- 
tablishment which  even  pretended  to  furnish  the  mar- 


THE  CONQUEST.  101 

ket  with  a  pure  article  of  reform,  put  up  in  the  original 
packages,  with  the  genuine  signature  and  trade-mark 
on  the  wrapper. 

"When  a  delegation  from  the  spinners  and  other 
operatives  of  the  Roxbury  Company  was  announced, 
just  before  noon,  the  Major  did  not  appear  so  anxious 
to  welcome  these  representatives  of  "  the  horny-hand- 
ed sons  of  toil,"  for  he  suspected  they  had  come  on 
different  business. 

Their  leader  was  William  Britton,  a  tall,  massive 
fellow  of  dark,  but,  -considering  his  indoor  life,  fresh 
complexion,  with  curling  black  hair,  and  sharp  black 
eyes.  The  mental  acuteness  in  his  face  was  shaded 
by  a  look  of  craft,  as  if  one  artist  should  superimpose 
his  own  characteristic  portraiture  upon  that  of  another. 
Legends  were  extant  of  his  almost  colossal  strength — 
of  his  feats  in  stopping  machinery  by  main  force,  and 
of  holding  men  and  bags  of  wool  at  arm's  length — ex- 
aggerations, probably. 

"  The '  Rox '  people  want  an  advance  of  ten  per  cent, 
after  the  15th,"  he  said. 

"  Is  that  your  discontent,  or  theirs? "  asked  Brewster, 
almost  haughtily. 

"  Let  them  say !"  he  replied,  nodding  his  head 
toward  his  comrades.  One  of  them,  a  good  deal  in  awe 
of  his  employer,  said  with  an  air  of  timidity: 

"  Things  are  going  up,  sir,  and  we  can't  make 
both  ends  meet  at  the  end  of  the  month." 

"Sorry,  sorry!"  said  Brewster,  "but  it  will  always 
be  so,  as  long  as  we  have  banker's  money,  instead  of 
workingman's  money,  and  no  reform  in  the  Govern- 


102  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

ment.  You'll  Lave  nothing  to  complain  of  as  soon  as 
we  have  the  power  to  help  you.  I  am  willing  to  raise 
wages  the  very  moment  I  can  get  the  right  kind  of 
money  to  do  it  with.  I  can  not  afford  it  now." 

"  We  can't  afford  to  wait,"  said  Britton. 

"But,"  Brewster  continued,  "in  the  present  state 
of  affairs,  I  'm  scarcely  getting  anything  out  of  it  my- 
self— nothing  to  speak  of." 

"The  mill  is  paying  twelve  per  cent,  clear,"  broke 
in  Britton. 

"Oh!  is  it?  "said  the  Major  sarcastically.  "I'm 
glad  to  hear  it.  And  since  you  know  so  much  about 
it,  perhaps  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  tell  where  all  the 
money  has  gone  to.  Perhaps  it's  so  profitable  you 
would  like  to  take  it  and  run  it.  I  '11  sell  any  day  cheap 
for  cash." 

"Perhaps  we  would,"  muttered  Britton,  as  he 
walked  away  with  his  companions.  "  and  we  will 
some  day."  And  lie  slightly  lifted  his  shoulders  as  if 
he  were  measuring  his  strength. 

"  I  think  it  would  be  well  to  keep  an  eye  on  him," 
suggested  Lawrence  Danforth.  "  They  tell  me  he 's 
the  son  of  an  English  socialist,  and  has  enormous  ideas 
of  what  he  is  to  accomplish  as  the  leader  of  the  work- 
men. He  causes  a  good  deal  of  discontent  among 
them,  and  has  learned  his  trade,  they  say,  only  for  the 
advantage  it  gives  of  influencing  them.  lie  is  quite 
looked  up  to  by  them,  and  looks  a  good  deal  higher 
himself." 

"He's  not  much  to  be  feared,"  replied  Brewster; 
"  at  any  rate  he  is  too  useful  just  now  for  me  to  afford 


THE  CONQUEST.  103 


to  quarrel  with  him.  I  only  wanted  him  to  under- 
stand that  /  would  take  none  of  his  impertinence."  So 
saying  he  rang  his  table  gong. 

"  Robert,  tell  Miss  Winifred  1  would  like  to  see  her 
a  few  minutes  in  the  library! " 

In  a  short  time  Robert  reappeared.     "  Miss  Wini- 
fred has  gone  for  a  walk,  sir." 


104:  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTEK   XL 

WINIFRED'S  CANVASS. 

DRESSED,  according  to  her  father's  suggestion,  in  a 
pretty  blue  cambric,  thread  gloves,  and  a  leghorn  hat 
plainly  trimmed,  "Winifred  was  tripping  daintily 
along  the  elm  and  maple-lined  street,  when  she  saw 
Dean  Stratton  opposite.  The  young  man  stared  at 
her  new  guise  as  if  he  failed  to  recognize  her;  then  a 
broad  smile  and  a  quick  movement  across  the  road 
announced  that  he  had  solved  the  puzzle. 

"Good  morning!  Sister  Winifred,"  said  he,  holding 
out  his  hand  half-confidentially  ;  "do  the  rules  of 
the  convent  allow  a  worldly  young  man  like  me  to 
speak  to  you?" 

He  addressed  her  in  a  bantering  mood,  but  his  eyes 
looked  lovingly  into  hers;  though  he  had  never  spo- 
ken of  love  to  her,  she  had,  in  the  many  years  of 
their  common  growth,  become  very  dear  to  him. 
Her  maidenliness  blushed  at  his  glance,  and  she  cast 
down  her  eyes  until  he  could  scarcely  see  them  glis- 
tening through  the  fringe  of  her  long  eye-lashes,  like 
the  gleam  of  water  under  the  overhanging  foliage  of 
the  bank.  Eecovering  herself,  she  said: 

"I  did  not  know  you  were  one  of  these  insipid 


WINIFRED'S  CANVASS.  105 

ladies'  men  that  always  know  what  people  have  on, 
and  miss  another  person's  ruffle  or  ribbon  as  they  'd 
miss  a  button  of  their  own." 

"  I  see  every  change  in  you,  "Winifred,"  he  replied, 
in  tones  that  thrilled  her.  "But  why  this  change?" 
he  went  on,  more  lightly;  "you  look  pretty  in  it,  of 
course.  You  could  n't  wear  anything  you  would  n't  look 
pretty  in;  but  this  excessive  sobriety — what  is  it,  a 
penance  or  a  vow?" 

Winifred,  instinctively  averse  even  to  hinting  at 
the  cause  of  the  change  in  her  toilet,  mockingly  re- 
plied: 

"  Really  now,,  if  you  are  getting  to  notice  these 
frivolous  things,  I  shall  have  done  with  you.  I  don't 
want  any  man-milliners  or  dress-makers  about,  I  as- 
sure you." 

He  laughed  in  turn,  asking: 

"  May  I  walk  with  you?" 

A  look  of  pain  came  into  her  face  and  she  said  with, 
effort: 

"No,  if  you  '11  excuse  me;"  then  relenting,  she 
added,  "  at  least  only  as  far  as  the  post-office." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  our  fathers  are  no  longer 
friends,"  he  said,  "  but  of  course  that  can  't  touch  our 
friendship." 

"  Of  course  not,"  she  replied,  hesitating  slightly. 
"  It 's  only  politics  and  will  very  soon  pass  away,  but  for 
the  present,  father  feels  so  strongly  on  the  subject 
that  my  walking  with  you  much,  would  compromise 
him  and  me." 

His  face  was  gloomy  as  he  replied: 


106  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"  It  is  all  nonsense.  What  have  we  to  do  with 
their  rows? " 

"  Very  little,"  she  said,  «  but  he  is  my  father,  and 
I  cannot  even  seem  to  go  contrary  to  his  interests. 
Don't  think  hard  of  me,  Dean ! " 

"  I  will  never  think  hard  of  you,  Winifred,  but  I 
think  it  's  very  hard  luck,"  said  the  young  man,  rais- 
ing his  hat  and  bidding  her  good-bye. 

On  the  platform  in  front  of  the  post-office,  stood  a 
stalwart  fellow  of  Dean's  own  age.  On  seeing  Strat- 
ton  take  leave  of  her,  and  perceiving  their  evident  in- 
terest in  each  other,  Britton  muttered  to  himself: 

"Wait  a  bit,  you  fine-haired  monkey!  There  are 
others  as  good  as  you  will  have  their  turn  some  day. 
It  would  be  the  makin'  of  such  a  pup  to  knock  the 
stuifin'  out  of  him." 

Winifred's  kind  look  and  the  word  of  thanks  she 
had  once  given  Britton  in  the  factory  for  opening  the 
heavy  outside  door  which  the  wind  held  fast,  had 
roused  daring  hopes  and  bitter  jealousy  within  him ; 
even  those  who  knew  him,  little  dreamed  of  his  ambi- 
tions. 

Winifred,  somewhat  saddened  by  her  thoughts, 
walked  on.  She  felt  assured  that  her  father's  in- 
junction against  having  anything  more  to  do  with  the 
Strattons  had  special  reference  to  her  intimacy  with 
Dean,  which  began  so  early  in  their  toddling  lives  she 
could  not  remember  its  origin.  She  used  to  wait  at  the 
gate  for  him  in  the  morning  and  return  from  school 
with  him  in  the  afternoon.  The  river,  now  a  sullen 
stream  stained  and  murky  with  the  refuse  dye-stuffs 


WJNIFRED'S  CANVASS.  107 

from  the  factories,  was  then  half  brook,  half  torrent, 
through  which  he  paddled,  barefoot,  while  she,  hold- 
ing his  hand,  leaped  across  from  stone  to  stone. 

Saturday  afternoons  they  roamed  the  woods  in  search 
of  the  trailing  arbutus,  violets,  and  spring  beauties,  or 
the  bitter-sweet,  the  clematis,  the  golden-rod  and 
fringed-gentian,  "  blue-eyed  pet  of  blue-eyed  lover. " 
Her  laugh  was  merry  and  free.  She  was  by  no  means 
a  prirn  little  maiden  in  those  days,  yet  always  tender, 
and  compliant  even  in  her  romps.  She  went  with  the 
boys  to  catch  frogs,  played  "  I  spy  "  and  "  Hide-and- 
seek,  "  or  celebrated  her  cats '  funerals,  at  which  she 
was  generally  the  only  sincere  mourner,  Dean  regard- 
ing them  as  a  good  joke  and  a  burlesque  of  what  was 
always  too  solemn  and  oppressive  to  him.  Winifred's 
aunt  who,  until  her  marriage,  took  the  mother's  place 
in  the  household,  frowned  upon  this  wild  life.  But 
the  father  frowned  in  turn  at  the  aunt. 

"  Let  her  romp  as  much  as  she  likes,"  lie  said: 
"  her  mother  was  not  strong,  and  she  needs  all  the 
health  she  can  store  up.  " 

But  this  came  to  an  end  when  Dean,  going  to  col- 
lege and  Winifred  to  boarding-school,  felt  the  re- 
straints which  their  wider  experiences  put  upon  the 
confidences  of  youth. 

After  passing  the  post  office  she  went  on  to  a  little 
settlement  of  cottages  at  the  other  end  of  the  street. 
One  of  them  with  its  green  blinds  and  a  small  portico 
of  green  lattice-work  at  the  front  door,  was  "  grand- 
father "  Cleland's.  A  path  of  white  gravel,  bordered 
with  many  colored  flowers,  ran  from  the  white  picket 


108  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

* 

gate  to  the  door.  An  acre  of  ground  attached  was  de- 
voted largely  to  vegetables  which  the  old  gentleman 
said  he  cultivated,  for  the  "  home  market "  principally, 
meaning  his  own  table.  In  the  open  window  stood 
boxes  and  pots  of  flowers,  and  at  the  portico  hung  iron 
baskets  of  plants.  The  principal  room  was  plainly 
furnished.  A  few  books,  including  a  leathern -covered 
bible,  which  the  old  man  used  for  a  razor-strop  Sun- 
day morning  and  nodded  over  in  the  afternoon,  "Ele- 
ments of  Drawing  "  and  a  History  of  the  Civil  War  lay 
on  a  set  of  corded  shelves.  There  was  an  engraving  or 
two  on  the  walls,  and  a  vilely  colored  p'rint — though  it's 
value  was  priceless  to  young  Mrs.  Cleland — depicting 
in  fire  that  was  redder  than  the  blood,  with  horses  more 
fiery  than  the  fire,  and  men  thicker  than  the  smoke, 
the  battle  at  which  her  husband  was,  for  his  bravery, 
promoted  to  a  second  lieutenancy.  In  one  corner  stood 
a  sewing-machine,  in  another  an  artist's  easel  and  a 
low  pine-table  belonging  to  her  crippled  son,  who 
though  approaching  manhood,  seemed  with  his  dwarfed 
stature  and  crooked  legs,  to  be  waiting  in  protracted 
youth,  for  a  form  befitting  his  manly  years.  To  this 
table  he  screwed  the  odd  pieces  of  oak  and  black  wal- 
nut which  he  used  in  learning  to  carve.  The  support 
of  him  and  herself  had  always  depended  upon  her 
earnings.  Young  Cleland,  her  husband,  had  just 
served  his  apprenticeship  at  clock-making  when  the 
war  broke  out.  He  was  killed  in  the  very  last  skirm- 
ish after  nearly  all  the  main  bodies  of  the  confederates 
had  surrendered.  The  boy  was  yet  unborn,  when,  on 
reading  the  telegram  announcing  her  husband's  death, 
she  fell  in  a  dead  faint  upon  the  floor. 


WINIFRED'S  CANVASS.  109 

She  loved  this  boy  passionately,  loved. him  all  the 
more  because  he  had  been  defrauded  of  the  strength 
and  joy  of  boyhood.  She  took  unalloyed  pleasure  in 
looking  at  his  intelligent  gray  eyes,  his  well-shaped 
mouth,  and  his  round  forehead,  on  which  his  chestnut 
curls  thickly  clustered.  She  listened  with  wonder  at 
what  seemed  to  her,  his  quaint  speeches;  and  her  hard, 
ill -paid  work  was  rewarded  by  his  confiding  affection 
and  budding  artistic  talents.  He  was  not  nine  years 
old,  when  with  a  pair  of  scissors  and  a  sheet  of  brown 
paper  he  formed  startlingly  vivid  figures  of  men  and 
trees,  and  animals, — gymnasts,  a  funeral  procession, 
a  rearing  horse,  deer  chased  by  the  hounds,  whose 
heads  were  sticking  over  the  hill  in  hot  pursuit. 

Three  or  four  years  before,  a  clerkship  in  theTreasury 
Department  at  Washington,  had  been  procured  for 
his  mother.  She  discharged  its  duties  with  fidelity  and 
capacity;  but  was,  without  warning  removed  one  day, 
because  Congressman  Pingree,  of  Ohio,  wanted  a  re- 
election. One  of  his  "  men,"  on  whom  he  had  greatly 
relied  to  "  work  up  "  his  district,  suddenly  "  balked," 
as  Pingree  remarked,  demanding  assurances  of  some- 
thing more  substantial  than  Pingree  had  yet  given 
him.  So  Mrs.  Cleland  had  "  to  go  "  to  make  a  place 
for  Pingree's  man's  sister-in-law.  The  head  of  her 
bureau  wrote  her  a  letter  of  regret,  testifying  to  her 
faithfulness  and  ability,  and  entirely  disclaiming  re- 
sponsibility for  a  change  alike  unjust  to  her  and  inju- 
rious to  the  service.  After  her  return  to  her  home 
in  Roxbury,  some  further  efforts  had  been  made  in 
her  behalf;  but  as  yet  vainly.  On  the  expiration  of 


110  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

Congressman  Filigree's  term,  her  restoration  to  the 
place  was  hoped  for,  and  in  this  expectancy,  she  had 
refrained  from  undertaking  any  work — indeed  her 
years  of  routine  official  life  had  seriously  unfitted  her 
for  other  occupation— and  by  means  of  her  sewing- 
machine  she  secured  only  a  mere  pittance. 

It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  old  Cleland 
kept  up  the  payments  of  interest  on  the  place  they 
began  buying  with  the  little  money  saved  from  the 
young  lieutenant's  pay.  While  prices  were  rising 
after  the  war,  the  old  man  had  several  chances  to  sell 
it,  but,  imagining  always  that  he  could  do  better,  he 
was  unwilling  to  let  it  go.  The  panic  of  1873  dashed 
the  poor  weak  man  to  pieces,  and,  from  that  time,  he 
gave  up  hopes  of  eve*  ridding  himself  of  his  burden. 
He  felt  as  if  a  growing  tumor  were  destined,  the  rest 
of  his  days,  to  weigh  him  to  the  earth. 

"Winifred's  mother  had,  during  her  young  orphanage, 
taken  a  warm  interest  in  Mrs.  Cleland.  She  had  sent 
her  to  school,  and  in  the  vacations  given  her  a  home. 
Winifred  was  too  young  to  know  her,  but,  subse- 
quently apprised  of  this  intimacy,  renewed  the  ac- 
quaintance in  Washington,  and  lately  by  occasional 
visits  to  the  cottage. 

Mrs.  Cleland  sat  plying  her  machine,  a  large  pile 
of  blue  "  overalls  "  lying  on  the  floor.  Young  Cleland, 
in  his  low  wheeled-chair,  with  pallette  and  brushes, 
was  filling  in  a  sketch  he  had  just  been  making.  The 
old  man,  tired  of  his  hot  morning's  drudgery,  had  nod- 
ded off  to  sleep  at  the  window,  lopping  in  an  armed 
rocking  chair,  whose  hard  wooden  bottom  was  relieved 


WINIFRED'S  CANVASS.  Ill 

by  a  feather  cushion,  the  slippery  corpulence  of  which 
would  have  startled  an  unwonted  sitter  with  the  belief 
that  a  maternal  fowl  had  already  established  a  squatter 
sovereignty  over  the  sedentary  privileges  of  the  chair. 
The  wind  gently  fanned  his  gray  hair.  It  being  the 
last  of  the  week,  his  face  was  covered  with  a  thick, 
white  stubble,  which  increased  the  wan  look  of  fatigue 
and  care,  that  did  not  slip  off  even  in  the  oblivion  of 
sleep. 

After  greeting  Adelaide  and  her  son,  "Winifred 
turned  to  the  old  man,  who  had  waked  up,  and  asked 
after  his  health. 

"Tolable!  tolable!  only  tolable,  only  tolable. 
Squeezed  een-a-most  ter  death  by  the  hard  times: 
waitin '  for  the  major 's  election ;  then  we  '11  hev  a  let- 
tie  easin '  up,  I  guess. 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Winifred;"!  hear  everybody 
saying  so,  and  it  frightens  me.  There  may  be  some 
mistake  and  disappointment,  and  then  how  they  will 
talk  about  him.  I  wish  he  were  n't  a  politician." 

"  Robert  always  liked  him,"  said  Mrs.  Cleland;  "  he 
thought  he  took  care  of  his  men.  If  women  voted,  I 
would  vote  for  him,  for  Eobert's  and  your  mother's 
sake;  but  I  don't  understand  these  questions." 

"  I  do  n't  think  that  ever  hinders  men  from  voting,3' 
said  the  youth. 

"Have  you  enough  work?"  asked  Winifred,  kindly, 
and  her  son  replied: 

"  She 's  enough  work,  but  such  little  pay.  Why  is 
it  that  hard  work  does  n't  bring  more  money  ?  Grand- 
pa works  from  morning  till  night,  and  she  seems  to 


112  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

work  from  night  till  morning,  for  she  's  at  it  when  I 
go  to  sleep  and  when  I  wake  up." 

"'T  would  be  easy  'nuff,"  said  the  old  man,  in  pip- 
ing-voice, "  if  't  wa  'n't  that  the  house  is  shingled  from 
the  eaves  to  the  ridge  pole  with  a  mortgage;  but  when 
it  takes  all  I  can  rake  and  scrape  just  to  save  it  from 
slippin'  out  o'  my  hands,  and  losin'  nearly  all  I  have 
put  into  it  the  last  fifteen  year!  It 's  hard,  it 's  mighty 
hard;  an'  that 's  why  1  'm  in  favor  o'  plenty  o'  money. 
After  I  'm  out  of  my  trouble,  I  '11  go  agin  enny 
more." 

"  I  do  n't  know  much  about  these  things,  Winifred," 
said  Mrs.  Cleland,  "but,  if  when  he's  president  your 
father  can  help  us  as  he  says  he  can,  I  look  forward  to 
it  as  if  I  were  coming  into  a  fortune;  if  he  can't,  it 
will  be  a  bitter  disappointment,  and  it 's  very  cruel  of 
him  to  pretend  he  can." 

"  Father  never  would  do  so  cruel  a  thing,"  replied 
Winifred,  "  you  don  't  know  how  kind  he  is.  No  girl 
ever  had  a  father  like  him.  I  can  't  remember  his 
speaking  a  harsh  word  to  me.  I  am  almost  afraid  to 
say  I  want  anything — it  seems  like  taking  advantage 
of  him.  JJe  hardly  gives  me  a  chance.  He's  not 
capable  of  deceiving  anybody;  I  'm  sure.  Of  course, 
in  politics  they  say  all  kinds  of  hard  things  about  him, 
but  it 's  because  they  do  not  know  him  as  I  do,  or  they 
never  would." 

The  young  girl  was  so  aglow  with  her  candid  and 
unselfish  enthusiasm  that  her  father  had  not  in  all  the 
ranks  of  those  who,  actuated  by  hopes  of  reward,  were 
laboring  for  him,  so  effective  a  "  canvasser." 


WINIFRED'S  CANVASS.  113 

"  I  always  thought  so,"  said  Adelaide.  "  He  was 
always  kind  to  your  mother,  always  pleasant  and  at- 
tentive." 

"  That 's  not  the  only  thing,"  interrupted  the  old 
man,  following  the  coarse  of  his  thoughts  instead  of 
the  conversation.  "  He's  helped  us — 'specially  Ad'- 
laide;  he's  allus  been  kind  to  Ad'laide;  but  he's  lost 
his  place;  been  talkin'  too  much,  talkin'  too  much; 
some  people  are  allus  wan  tin'  to  talk;  it  never  does  a 
body  any  good,  as  I  can  make  out." 

"  O,  never  mind  that  now,  father,"  said  Adelaide. 

"  I  wonder  if  Arthur  remembers  how  the  brook  and 
old  mill  and  the  old  bridge  looked  when  he  was  a 
boy?"  asked  Winifred,  suddenly. 

"Very  well.  I  used  to  sketch  it.  I  think  I  Ve  got 
some  of  them  now,  though  they  are  pretty  rude." 

"I  wish  you  would  paint  it  for  me,"  she  said,  slip- 
ping the  contents  of  her  purse  into  Adelaide's  hand, 
and  whispering,  "That is  all  I  have  with  me,  and  it's 
only  an  installment.  I  would  like  it  as  a  souvenir 
very  much  indeed,"  she  added,  aloud. 

The  tears  came  into  the  mother's  eyes  at  this  deli- 
cate expression  of  the  young  girl's  sympathy,  and  at 
her  recognition  of  her  son's  talents. 

"You  are  your  mother's  daughter,  Miss  Winifred. 
She  always  seemed  happier  making  other  people  happy- 
than  those  she  made  so." 

"  I  love  to  hear  you  say  that.  I  'd  like  nothing  so 
much  in  all  the  world  as  to  be  like  her  and  leave  so 
sweet  a  memory;  with  so  many  to  speak  of  me  gently 
and  gratefully,  as  they  all  do  even  to  this  day.  I  will 


114:        -  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

come  again  soon,"  she  added,  with,  her  charming  smile, 
and  kissing,  with  almost  sisterly  affection,  the  poor 
woman  to  whom  the  brief  sunshine  of  her  presence 
was  so  warm  and  reviving. 

The  old  man,  rising  as  she  went  out,  dropped  a  letter 
he  had  forgotten  to  deliver  to  his  daughter.  Catching 
sight  of  the  Washington  postmark,  Adelaide  seized  it 
and  broke  it  open.  It  announced  her  reappointment 
to  her  old  place,  dating  from  the  middle  of  the  suc- 
ceeding month.  The  heavy  burden  of  anxiety  that 
had  for  two  long  years  rested  heavily  upon  her  seemed 
to  fly  up  the  chimney  or  out  of  the  window.  She 
burst  into  a  little  song  of  happiness,  the  color  tinged 
her  cheeks,  she  threw  her  arms  almost  ecstatically 
around  her  boy,  and  then  kissed  the  old  man's  fore- 
head. 

"  You  shall  have  tools  and  models  and  teachers,  my 
darling!  You  shall  make  your  mother  happy  and 
proud  of  her  boy!  We  will  always  live  together,  and 
I  will  lay  by  enough  to  give  poor  grandfather  his  home 
here  as  long  as  he " 

She  stopped  suddenly,  her  look  of  joy  recoiling  into 
her  wonted  anxiety.  She  thought,  "Oh  I  oh!  they'll 
be  sure  not  to  let  me  have  it  long!" 


.y  THE  BRIDGE.  .115 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ON  THE  BRIDGE. 

ON  her  way  home,  Winifred  stopped  a  moment  in 
the  center  of  the  bridge,  to  look  over  the  parapet  and 
up  the  stream.  There  had  been  since  her  childhood 
comparatively  few  changes  in  this  neighborhood.  The 
old  grist-mill,  still  standing,  and,  for  that  matter,  still 
"  going,"  looked  as  if  it  were  tumbling  into  the  river. 
The  moss-edged  flume  and  the  stringers  atop,  recalled 
Dean's  falling  into  the  mill  race,  while  "  bobbing  for 
eels,"  one  moonlight  night,  and  her  brother  Tom's 
rescuing  him.  There  were  the  three  huge  piles,  shor- 
ing up  the  old  mill  next  the  bank,  capped  with  the 
flour  and  the  meal  that  sifted  through  the  loose  clap- 
boards. Dean  and  Winifred  used  to  call  them  the  "  dea- 
cons," because  they  reminded  them  of  the  three  gray- 
haired  church  officials  who  sat  in  the  same  pew  "  Com- 
munion Sunday,"  and  passed  the  symbols  of  that 
service. 

The  long  poles,  formerly  stretching  from  one  un- 
hewn granite  boulder  to  another,  and  forming  the 
guards  of  the  old  bridge,  were  displaced  by  a  parapet 
of  masonry  that  adorned  the  handsome  arched  struc- 
ture which  now  spanned  the  water.  The  little  old 


116  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

bridge  lay  along  close  to  the  surface  of  tlie  stream, 
but  its  high-stepping  successor  leaped  across  at  an 
aristocratic  height.  The  convenient  stones  in  the  bed 
of  the  river  had  disappeared. 

She  stood  there  thinking  of  those  old  days,  and  the 
sweet  peace  and  delight  of  them,  the  innocence  of 
her  affection  for  Dean,  and  the  deeper  but  less 
tranquil  emotion  which  was  now  stirred  at  sight 
and  thought  of  him.  It  was  the  difference  between 
the  light  and  happy  babbling  of  the  old  brook,  and 
the  sweeping  current  of  the  fuller  flood  that  rolled 
beneath  her. 

At  this  moment  her  attention  was  attracted  by 
the  figure  of  a  man  who  was  coining  toward  her. 
With  the  vague  hope  of  seeing  her  again,  William 
Britton  had  hurried  his  dinner  and  gone  out  upon  the 
street.  In  addition  to  the  promptings  of  his  self- 
esteem,  and  his  confidence  in  his  good  looks,  he  was 
only  consistent  with  his  creed  in  believing  that  he 
was  her  equal  and  had  a  right  to  be  treated  as  such. 
He  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  post-office,  awaiting  her 
reappearance.  As  he  descried  her  in  the  distance,  he 
began  stroking  his  moustache  and  adjusting  his  hat. 
As  she  came  nearer  he  grew  confused  with  his  pur- 
pose, and  his  inability  to  devise  means  of  carrying  it 
out.  Should  he  go  boldly  up  and  speak  to  her?  She 
would  resent  it.  Should  he  make  an  excuse  by  asking 
some  trivial  question?  She  would  answer  it  and  pass 
on,  perhaps  pass  on  without  answering. 

"  I  think  I  '11  bow  to  her,"  he  said  to  himself.  It  '11 
make  her  stare,  maybe,  but  that  won 't  hurt  anybody. 


ON  THE  BRIDGE.  117 


I  'm  better  looking  than  the  whole  batch  o'  swells 
she  's  used  to." 

At  this  moment  she  stopped,  and  Britton  strolled 
toward  her,  affecting  an  ease  he  did  not  feel.  He 
was  just  stepping  on  the  bridge,  and  to  her  astonish- 
ment, acting  as  if  he  were  about  speaking  to  her, 
when  a  loud  tumult  arose  among  the  crowd  of  opera- 
tives behind  him,  on  their  way  to  their  work.  They 
were  looking  intently  up  a  side  street  which  joined 
the  main  one  near  the  bridge.  Then  around  the 
corner,  at  frightful  speed,  plunged  a  pair  of  driver- 
less  horses,  dragging  with  great  leaps  a  farmer's 
heavy  wagon.  '  They  wheeled  upon  the  bridge. 
Winifred's  hands  slipped  from  the  rounded  coping  of 
the  parapet  which  she  vainly  tried  to  climb,  and  sink- 
ing helpless  upon  her  knees,  as  if  in  supplication  to 
the  insane  brutes,  she  shut  her  eyes  to  her  dreadful 
fate,  and  whispered,  "God  take  me!" 

As  in  a  dream  or  fog  she  saw  a  giant  jump  at 
the  heads  of  the  plunging  horses.  They  sheered  from 
him,  and  he  caught  one  of  their  flying  reins.  It 
whirled  him  around,  threw  him  down,  and  dragged 
him  on  the  ground  till  it  broke.  It  swerved  the  mad- 
dened brutes  toward  "Winifred's  side  of  the  bridge. 
The  horse  nearest  her  madly  leaped  upon  the  para- 
pet, falling  astride  of  it,  and  launching  out  his  heels 
furiously  a  few  inches  from  her  head. 

"Get  up,  miss,  get  up!"  cried  Britton,  running 
toward  her. 

She  opened  her  eyes  and  vainly  tried  to  rise.  Was 
she  paralyzed  with  fear? 


118  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

The  forward  wheel  of  the  heavily-loaded  wagon 
resting  upon  her  garments  and  just  grazing  her  knee, 
pinned  her  helplessly  to  the  floor. 

Britton  ran  and  lifted  the  enormous  weight,  strain- 
ing every  cord  in  his  body,  until  he  felt  as  if  the  liga- 
tures were  breaking. 

"Get  away  from  it,  miss!  as  quick  as  you  can,"  he 
muttered,  for  the  muscular  tension  prevented  his 
speaking  loud. 

She  crawled  away,  and  Britton  lowered  his  burden 
to  the  ground.  He  held  out  his  hand  and  lifted  her 
up.  She  looked  gratefully  up  in  his  face  and  smiled 
faintly  as  she  rallied  her  strength  and  self-possession. 
Great  beads  of  perspiration  stood  on  his  forehead, 
his  powerful  hands  trembled  with  the  strain  to  which 
he  had  been  put. 

"Are  you  hurt?"  she  asked,  in  timid  sympathetic 
tones,  which  made  him  almost  sorry  he  was  not. 

"No,  miss,  but  I  wonder  you  ain't." 

By  this  time  a  crowd  had  gathered,  and  she  shrank 
from  the  stares  and  questions  of  which  the  two  were 
the  center.  She  heard  exclamations  of  pleasure  and 
surprise  at  her  wonderful  escape,  and  of  admiration 
and  something  like  awe  at  Britton's  strength.  A 
great  hubbub  too  wfl,s  raised  by  the  attempt  of  every  eye- 
witness to  testify  to  what  he  saw  of  the  affair,  which 
in  his  opinion,  was  the  most  important  part  of  it. 

She  had  to  say  again  and  again  that  she  was  un- 
hurt; that  she  owed  her  life  to  "this — this — gentle- 
man," she  called  him,  though  she  was  not  in  the  habit  of 
speaking  of  the  operatives  in  those  terms.  In  her 


ON  THE  BRIDGE.  119 


gratitude  for  her  deliverance  she  felt  as  if  he  must  be  one. 

" What  is  your  name?"  she  asked,  as  she  moved 
homeward.  "  My  father  will  not  forget  you." 

"  Britton.  I  'm  a  spinner  at  the  l  Rox.' "  said  lie, 
half  defiantly.  "  I  would  have  saved  the  life  of  any 
body,  much  more  you." 

Winifred  blushed  deeply  at  the  compliment  boldly 
paid  her  in  the  hearing  of  a  street  crowd.  However, 
she  could  not  very  well  insist  that  a  man  should  be 
qualified  to  risk  his  life  for  hers  by  first  being  delicate 
and  well-bred.  She  had  really  not  had  time,  when  the 
horses  came  tearing  down  upon  her,  to  select  an  en- 
tirely suitable  rescuer. 

"  Father  will  not  allow  you  to  be  forgotten,"  she 
repeated,  bowing  to  him  and  walking  off,  he  raising 
his  hat  politely  to  her. 

Hearing  that  her  father  was  at  the  mill,  and  anx- 
ious lest  exaggerated  rumors  of  her  danger  should 
reach  him,  she  went  there  at  once. 

He  stood  in  the  vestibule  talking  with  the  superin- 
tendent about  repairs.  Near  the  door  leading  into  the 
weaving-room  a  huge  shaft,  pulley,  and  belt  communi- 
cated the  power  to  the  looms.  As  the  women  passed 
in  and  out  their  dresses  often  swept  dangerously  near 
the  big  wheel;  why  some  of  them  had  not  been  drawn 
in  and  dashed  to  pieces,  was  a  perpetual  miracle. 

"  Something  ought  to  be  done  about  that, "  said  the 
superintendent.  "There  '11  be  an  accident  some  day, 
and  an  awful  row  made  over  our  negligence.  It  can  't 
be  covered  just  where  it  is.  It  ought  to  be  moved 
ten  feet  to  the  right  and  boxed  in.  " 


120  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"How  much  will  it  cost?"  asked  the  major, 
"  Two  or  three  hundred  dollars  and  the  loss  froir 
stopping,  though  I  suppose  it  might  be  partly  done  or 
Sunday.  It 's  an  awkward  job.  I  'm  'fraid,  we  '11 
have  to  shift  the  shafting  all  through  the  room.  " 

"  Tell  them  to  be  careful !  There  is  going  to  be  a 
strike  I  think  pretty  soon.  Then  there  '11  be  leisure.  " 

SuperintendentClegg  shook  his  head  doubtfully,  but 
the  major  said  no  more  about  it,  and  at  this  moment 
the  operatives  came  pouring  in.  Just  behind  them,  still 
pale  and  trembling,  but  glad  to  see  that  her  father  was 
not  troubled  about  her,  was  Winifred.  He  greeted  her, 
as  he  always  did,  with  a  smile. 

"  O,  father  ! "  she  cried  "  I  'm  so  glad  you  didn  't 
hear.  It  was  perfectly  awful,  but  I  was  in  danger  less 
than  half  a  minute,  though  it  seemed  like  forever." 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  You  in 
danger! "  he  exclaimed  almost  as  anxious  for  her  as  if 
slie  were  not  safe  and  alive  before  him. 

She  told  him  what  had  happened  and  was  warm  and 
eager  in  her  praise  of  Britton. 

Her  father  frowned  when  his  name  was  mentioned. 
He  disliked  him.  He  could  not  tell  exactly  why ;  per- 
haps because  he  was  a  rival  friend  and  champion  of  the 
workingman's  cause. 

"  I  will  reward  him,"  said  her  father,  smoothing  her 
hair,  which  had  become  disordered. 

While  ehe  was  talking,  the  machinery  had  been  set 
in  motion.  She  stood  directly  in  front  of  the  big  pul- 
ley now  revolving  with  great  speed.  The  draft  through 
the  mill  raised  and  fluttered  her  dress,  holding  it  tempt- 


ON  THE  BRIDGE.  121 


ingly  out  toward  the  belted  monster,  daring  him  to 
seize  it,  teasing  him  by  lifting  it  almost  within  his 
grasp,  and  then  dropping  it  again.  Her  father,  absorb- 
ed in  the  story  of  her  escape,  did  not  at  first  notice  this 
frightful  coquetry,  sporting  with  his  daughter's  life. 
Suddenly  he  grasped  her  and  dragged  her  away.  His 
feelings  were  a  mixture  of  love,  terror,  and  that  anger 
which  sometimes  follows  great  fear,  tempting  the 
mother  to  -chastise  the  infant  she  has  just  snatched 
from  under  the  hoofs  of  a  horse  or  from  the  brink 
of  a  well. 

"  Winifred!  you  reckless  girl.  Have  you  set  out  to 
see  how  badly  you  can  frighten  us!  You  were  within 
an  inch  of  being  caught  by  that  belting  there!  Shall 
I  shut  you  up  in  the  house?" 

Then  he  was  sorry;  for  she  was  badly  shaken  by  her 
day's  adventures.  So  he  made  her  take  his  arm  and 
they  walked  home  to  dinner.  The  same  afternoon  he 
ordered  the  place  made  absolutely  safe  without  re- 
gard to  cost  or  loss. 

Dean  Stratton  was  tortured  by  hearing  of  her  danger 
and  his  inability  to  go  and  comfort  her.  He  was  even 
jealous  of  Britton's  exploits  and  resented  the  praise  of 
his  strength  which  he  had  in  common  with  oxen,  and 
his  good  looks,  which,  with  his  black  moustache,  curl- 
ing dark  hair  and  heavy  eyebrows,  probably  did  not 
surpass  those  of  Italian  bandits.  Combined  with  a  flip- 
pant scorn  and  an  unruly  temper  these  endowed  him 
with  an  attraction  that  fascinated  chiefly  by  its  sugges- 
tion of  strong  and  reckless  passions. 

In  the  afternoon  the  major  enclosed  to  Britton  a 


122  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

check  for  a  hundred  dollars  with  a  well- written  note  of 
thanks.  Most  of  the  money  was  spent  for  a  dinner 
with  expensive  wines  to  which  he  invited  a  score  of 
his  comrades,  where  they  talked  of  the  wrongs  of  the 
workingmen  and  the  vices  of  the  aristocrats. 

"  You  've  got  to  bring  'em  to  terms,"  said  Frank 
Harmon.  "Crowd  'em  to  their  knees!  Make  'em 
feel  what  we  feel !  Give  'em  a  turn  at  our  rations  and 
our  work!  There's  that  beltin' — that  shows  how  it 
works.  I  told  the  boss  more  'n  once  somebody  'd  get 
their  very  innards  tored  inside  out.  My  sister  and 
my  eldest  gal  went  by  it  every  day.  But  he  only  said, 
'  Pooh !  pooh ! '  The  old  man  would  n't  hear  to  it.  <  Let 

people  be  careful !'  says  he;  but  by ,  the  minnit 

that  skim-milk,  baby-faced  young  'un  came  within  a 
rod  of  it,  every  thin'  was  tored  up,  a  whole  set  of  looms 
stopped,  and  the  devil  to  pay  gen'ully.  That 's  what 
fetches  'em!  Give  'em  a  taste  on't  themselves  an' 
they  '11  come  to  their  milk,  I  tell  you!" 

Britton  did  not  relish  his  comrade's  description  of 
his  employer's  pretty  daughter,  but  was  not  disposed 
to  quarrel  with  his  views  about  capitalists  and  work- 
ing-people. 

In  the  middle  of  the  week,  the  express  brought  a 
package  directed  to  Miss  Winifred  Brewster.  At 
the  dinner-table  she  spread  out  a  wide  and  elegant  fan 
on  which  was  painted,  by  a  French  artist,  an  exquis- 
ite marine  view.  Off  a  pleasant  coast  a  graceful  yacht 
under  full  sail  was  dashing  along  in  the  bright  sun- 
shine of  a  summer  day.  A  brief  note  begged  her 
acceptance,  and  hoped  it  would  in  a  measure  supply 


V  THE  BRIDGE.  123 


the  place  of  the  delicious  breezes  that  had  wafted  the 
giver  such  pleasure  on  tliat  notable  week.  She  could 
not  repress  her  delight  at  the  beauty  and  taste  of  the 
gift. 

" Carroll  is  prompt,"  said  her  father,  slyly.  " It's 
less  than  three  days  since  he  went  away.  You  muet 
make  suitable  acknowledgment;  though  I  suppose  he 
might  attach  some  significance  to  your  acceptance 
of  it." 

"I  should  be  very  sorry  to  have  him,"  she  said, 
seriously,  and  without  the  faintest  shade  of  coquetry. 
"You  would  not  wish  it,  of  course?" 

"I?  You  know  I  have  never  uttered  a  syllable 
intended  to  influence  you  in  such  matters — but  Mr. 
Carroll's  relations  with  me  are  important,  and  I  should 
not  like  to  have  you  disturb  them.  I  would  be  glad 
to  have  you  forward  them,  if" — he  added,  seeing  a 
shadow  flit  across  her  face — "it  were  quite  voluntary 
on  your  part." 

"  I  want  to  stay  with  you,  father,"  she  exclaimed. 
"  You  can  not  do  without'  me — or  at  least  you  are  to 
think  you  can't;  and  I'll  not  open  your  eyes  by  going 
away.  When  Mr.  Carroll  sends  messages  and  presents 
I  want  you  to  feel  jealous,  and  think  how  lonely  you 
would  be  if  I  were  to  leave  you  to  the  tender  mercies 
of  pious  Mrs.  Griggs,  our  housekeeper,  and  her  *  Daily 
Food.'  She  would  make  you  learu  a  verse  of  scripture 
every  morning  for  breakfast." 

"It's  a  bargain,"  said  her  father;  "You  shall  not 
be  besieged  or  besought,  if  you  do  not  like.  "We  '11 
never  dissolve  the  partnership;  business  shall  be  con- 


124:  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

ducted  at  the  old  stand,  under  the  firm  of  Brewster  & 
Daughter — no  other  '  families  supplied  at  short  no- 
tice.' " 

He  went  on  in  a  rollicking  way  quite  unusual  with 
him,  until  she  forgot  what  further  she  had  intended 
to  say  on  the  subject  which,  in  fact,  was  the  purpose 
of  his  almost  boisterous  hilarity. 


COUNTING  THE  VOTE.  125 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

COUNTING  THE  VOTE. 

v 

WITH  lights  ablaze,  Major  Brewster  stood  in  the 
parlor  of  the  Monster  Hotel,  New  York,  which  for 
several  months  had  been  the  "  headquarters  "  of  the 
National  Committee  of  his  party.  Up  to  twelve 
o'clock  he  had  remained  at  his  private  house,  whither 
the  dispatches  had  been  sent  from  the  "  headquar- 
ters;" but,  growing  impatient  with  this  second-hand 
method  of  procuring  information,  he  had,  after  mid- 
night, been  driven  to  the  rooms  of  the  committee. 

The  carpet  of  the  hotel  was  so  covered  with  "  cam- 
paign documents " — copies  of  speeches  and  party 
"platforms" — and  with  scraps  of  writing-paper  and 
envelopes,  that  its  figure  was  nearly  hidden  under  the 
mimic  snow-storm.  Three  or  four  tables  were  littered 
with  pens,  ink-stands,  pencils,  telegraph-messages, 
and  sheets  of  paper  covered  with  figures.  The 
grave,  silent  groups  of  men,  and  the  irregular  atti- 
tude of  the  chairs,  gave  the  whole  apartment  an  air 
of  by-gone  tumult.  Through  an  atmosphere,  more  or 
less  clouded  with  tobacco  smoke,  one  could  see  in  an  ad- 
joining room  a  table,  covered  with  relics  of  cold  meat 
and  oysters,  cups  with  stains  of  coffee,  glasses  with 


126  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

heel-taps  of  champaign,  broken  biscuit,  salad,  and 
half-emptied  dishes  of  fruit. 

In  the  main  room  a  tinge  of  wan  daylight  at  length 
dimmed  the  flaring  lamps,  and  cast  a  grayish  hue  upon 
the  tired  faces,  suggestive  of  declining  health,  or  ad- 
vancing years.  The  hands  of  the  clock  pointed  to  a 
quarter  of  six.  The  silence  was  almost  awesome,  as 
each  disappointed  face  looked  solemnly  into  its  neigh- 
bor's. Major  Brewster  brought  this  to  a  close  by  say- 
ing to  the  politicians,  secretaries,  and  two  newspaper 
reporters,  lingering  for  the  latest  news. 

"Well,  gentlemen,  all  roads  lead  to  Rome,  and  wo 
have  tried  but  one.  Let 's  go  to  bed  and  start  again 
to-morrow,  or  rather  this  afternoon." 

So  saying,  with  bright  eye,  and  firm,  clear  voice,  lie 
dismissed  them,  and  ordering  himself  to  be  called  at 
midday,  was  sound  asleep  before  the  dawn  had  fairly 
streaked  the  eastern  sky. 

It  was  the  dawn  of  the  morning  after  the  election. 
For  twelve  hours,  half  the  North  American  continent 
had  been  the  scene  of  a  concentrated  mental  activity 
unequaled,  perhaps,  at  any  other  time  or  place.  Two 
hundred  thousand  men,  more  or  less,  had,  between 
dark  and  sunrise,  been  finding  out  what  eight  millions 
had  already  done  between  sunrise  and  dark.  During 
these  vigils  they  counted,  tallied,  checked,  copied,  ran 
to  and  fro,  sent,  received,  corrected,  added,  subtracted, 
percentaged,  printed.  Men  on  horseback,  messengers 
in  vehicles,  had,  by  the  light  of  the  stars,  ridden  over 
lonely  mountain  roads,  or  along  prairie  tracks,  bring- 
ing the  "  returns"  from  excommunicated  towns  to  the 


COUNTING  THE  VOTE.  127 

nearest  telegraph  stations.  In  a  thousand  telegraph 
offices,  from  dusk  till  dawn,  the  unresting  instruments 
had,  in  endless  repetition,  clicked  off  the  names  of  the 
candidates,  and  the  million  combinations  of  digits  at- 
tached thereto.  A  regiment  of  editors,  sodden  with 
work  and  sleeplessness,  ended  a  night  of  unusual  toil 
by  throwing  paper,  pencils,  almanacs,  blanks,  newspa- 
per-files, and  memoranda  thankfully  down ;  while  in- 
numerable printers  set  the  last  type,  and  wended  their 
way  to  long-coveted  beds;  the  glow  of  the  horizon 
flushing  even  their  pale,  leaden  complexions,  bleached 
by  years  of  sunlessness  and  hot,  bad  air. 

O*n  this  bright,  crisp  November  morning,  the  sun, 
whose  engagements  elsewhere  the  night  before  forbade 
his  staying  to  overlook  the  counting  at  the  polls  and 
perhaps  prevent  "mistakes,"  had  made  haste,  as"if 
anxious  about  the  result,  to  return  at  break  of  day, 
and  receive,  in  all  the  larger  places,  the  loud,  shrill 
welcome  of  those  city  chanticleers — the  newsboys. 
Pie  looked  cheerfully  in  upon  the  breakfast  tables  and 
saw  innumerable  cups  of  coffee  growing  cold,  and  the 
temper  of  countless  wives  growing  warm,  as  the  hus- 
band, unheedful  of  both,  sat  absorbing  the  telegraphic 
columns  of  the  morning  paper.  Its  broad  pages  had 
broken  out  with  the  numerals  of  Arabia;  for  even 
Bunkery's  ingenuity  had  failed  to  invent  a  native 
American  system  of  figures,  and  the  humiliation  of 
resorting  to  foreign  symbols  was  forced  upon  the  un- 
selfish patriot  in  common  with  the  knavish  "  Shylock" 
and  the  avaricious  "gold-bug." 

The  essence  01    all  tnis  marvelous  complexity  of 


128  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

voluntary  human  agency  working  to  a  unity  of  pur- 
pose and  result,  was  summed  up  in  one  official  dis- 
patch from  Senator  Joslyn,  commander-iii-chief  of 
the  other  party.  His  experienced  glance,  sweeping 
the  vast  field  which  the  telegraph  had  mapped  out 
before  him,  announced  that  the  returns  from  all  the 
States  showed  an  equal  number  of  electoral  votes  for 
each  candidate,  and  a  consequent  failure  of  choice  by 
the  people.  This  would  throw  the  election  into  the 
House  of  Representatives,  where,  if  his  opponents 
counted  the  votes  fairly,  of  which  there  was  no  assur- 
ance, Brewster  would  be  defeated.  Joslyn  had,  as  he 
threatened,  put  Brewster  in  the  "  nineholes." 

It  was  upon  the  receipt  of  this  bulletin,  that  Brews- 
ter, bidding  his  friends  good-morning,  went  to  his 
sweet  repose. 

The  same  afternoon  lie  set  out  for  Roxbury,  arriving 
in  time  for  supper.  Early  in  the  morning  he  sent  for 
Clegg,  the  superintendent,  and  putting  aside  all  that 
gentleman's  allusions  to  the  election,  said: 

"What  have  you  got  for  me?  I  've  done  with  the 
past — at  least  for  the  present." 

Clegg,  after  exhibiting  numerous  inyoices,  vouchers 
•and  drafts,  handed  him  the  check-book  with  several 
checks  ready  for  his  signature.  After  which  he  drew 
out  two  or  three  broken  letters. 

"Here  are  some  complaints,"  said  Clegg; — "all  in 
the  same  line.  They  want  to  know  what 's  the  matter. 
They  hope  it  '11  be  better  after  the  election." 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Brewster. 

"The  nnish   isn't   what  it  used  to  be.     Paxton, 


COUNTING  THE  VOTE.  129 

Brunswick  and  Company  say  we  must  be  working  up 
the  sheep  whole,  or  we  'd  get  the  mutton  tallow  out.- 
I  suppose  it 's  the  oil.  The  scouring 's  bad  and  the 
fine-drawing  is  n't  what  it  should  be." 

"  Well,  Clegg,  it  is  pretty  impudent  in  you  to  come 
to  me  with  these  things.  It 's  your  business  to  see  to 
the  work.  "Why  do  n't  you  get  help  that  will  do  it 
well?" 

"  I  had  a  man — one  of  the  best  I  know  of — and  you 
made  me  dismiss  him.  I  'd  like  to  take  him  back." 

"Who is  that?" 

"  Jaycox." 

The  major  frowned. 

"  He  did  n't  know  enough  to  mind  his  own  busi- 
ness." 

"  Well,  now  the  thing 's  over,  had  n't  we  better  get 
him  back?"  asked  Clegg. 

"  Take  him  back! "  cried  the  major.  "  No,  not  if  I 
have  to  go  to  making  cheese  cloth.  I  don't  care  that, 
on  Ms  account,  but  it  would  demoralize  the  men." 

"But " 

" « But ! '  <  but ! '"  echoed  Brewster.  "Get  a  man  to 
attend  to  the  business  and  stop  these  complaints!  It  is 
my  belief  you  've  been  letting  the  thing  run  along  in 
the  hopes  of  putting  Jaycox  back.  I  will  not  have  any 
more  fooling,  let  me  tell  you." 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  truth  in  this,  for  Jaycox 
was  so  trustworthy  that  he  relieved  Clegg  of  anxiety 
and  trouble,  and  the  superintendent  had  been  trying 
to  do  with  make-shifts  and  force  Brewster  to  reinstate 
him. 

9 


130  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"Jaycox  called  on  me  to-day,"  continued  Clegg, 
"  and  he 's  a  good  deal  broken  down.  His  voice  was 
husky,  and  he  looked  thin  and  pinched.  Says  he, 
*  Mr.  Clegg,  I  'm  starved  out.  I  owe  more  'n  I  'm 
ashamed  to  say.  I  have  n't  been  able  to  get  any  but 
odd  jobs,  and  if  I  go  away  there's  no  one  to  take  care 
of  my  sick  wife  and  the  children.  If  there  's  any- 
thing '11  break  a  man  down  it 's  the  thought  o'  the 
little  one's  crying  for  a  bit  to  eat,  and  nothing  to  give 
'em ;  or  the  wife's  comfort  and  life  depending  on  what 
you  can 't  get  for  her.  And  so,  seeing  the  fight 's 
over,  I  came  to  say,  if  you  'd  take  me  back,  I  'd  agree 
to  make  no  trouble  after  this.' " 

"And  what  did  you  tell  him?"  asked  Brewster, 
sharply. 

"I  said  I'm  afraid  we  can't  do  anything  for  you, 
but  I '11  put  your  case  before  the  major.  He's  not 
the  man  to  overlook  a  thing  of  the  kind." 

"  Quite  right,"  said  the  major,  opening  his  check 
book.  "  I  will  help  him  along,  but  I  '11  not  take  him 
back." 

He  had  just  finished  writing  out  a  check  when  a 
telegram  was  put  in  his  hands.  Laying  down  his  pen, 
opening  the  dispatch,  hastily  reading  it,  muttering 
an  exclamation,  taking  out  his  watch,  and  turning  to 
Clegg,  he  said: 

"  Send  my  man  to  the  station  to  drive  back  your  horse 
and  buggy;  I  must  catch  the  10:30  express." 

Putting  on  his  overcoat  as  he  walked  rapidly  to  the 
street  where  Clegg's  horse  stood,  he  jumped  into  the 
wagon  and  drove  at  full  speed  to  the  station,  stepping 


COUNTING  THE  VOTE.  131 

on  the  train  after  it  was  in  motion.  The  same  even- 
ing he  was  at  his  house  in  the  city. 

The  whole  country  was  in  a  state  of  intense  excite- 
ment over  the  announcement  that  one  small  State 
casting  three  electoral  votes  was  now  in  doubt.  In 
two  days  it  was  so  full  of  "visiting  statesmen  "  that 
the  original  inhabitants  were  in  danger  of  being 
crowded  out.  This  State  Avas  curiously  divided  be- 
tween its  "hard  money"  and  Southern  sympathies; 
and  although  the  first  reports  apparently  threw  it  on 
the  former  side,  news  from  the  remoter  districts  was 
turning  it  over  to  Brewster. 

Senator  Joslyn  was  besieged  from  all  quarters  to 
know  the  meaning  of  this  new  phase  of  affairs. 

"Possess  your  souls  in  patience! "  was  his  only  an- 
swer; "  Joslyn  has  said  that  Brewster  is  defeated,  and 
you  never  knew  Joslyn  to  go  back  on  his  word." 

Each  side  accused  the  other  of  intimidating  or  brib- 
ing the  State  officials  in  charge  of  the  counting;  at 
any  rate  the  returns  under  various  pretexts  were  being 
delayed  until  the  approach  of  the  day  appointed  for 
counting  them. 

The  evening  before  this  day,  Major  Brewster  was 
sitting  in  the  business  room  of  his  city  house  with 
Danforth,  Perceval,  politicians  and  newspaper  men, 
when  in  came  a  cipher  dispatch  addressed  to  Danforth. 
In  the  presence  of  all  the  company,  the  major  asked 
to  see  it,  and  knit  his  brows  angrily  at  it. 

"Bead  that  aloud  in  plain  English,  Danforth?"  he 
said,  stamping  his  foot.  "  I  will  have  none  of  this 
sneaking,  underhand  cipher  business;  I'm  not  afraid 


132  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

to  let  daylight  shine  right  through  every  square  inch 
of  my  doings." 

The  reporters  jotted  down  his  words  as  he  spoke. 
In  a  few  minutes  Danforth  read  the  dispatch: 

"  I  can  buy  the  Board  of  State  Canvassers  for  $50,- 
000  cash;  "VVill  you  consent?" 

(Signed),  "  BRINDLE  Cow." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that?"  cried  the  major. 
"  Cattle! — actually  putting  themselves  up  at  auction. 
Sounds  like  a  fable  from  2Esop.  The  other  side  has 
offered  forty  thousand  !  That  is  what  that  means. 
Joslyn  has  looked  after  that.  I  want  you,  gentlemen," 
he  said,  turning  to  the  reporters,  "  to  see  my  answer." 

The  next  day  the  above  telegram,  together  with  the 
major's  comments  upon  it,  and  the  following  reply, 
was  published  in  all  the  newspapers: 

"To  THOMAS  STARKEY: — The  sending-  of  another  dispatch  like 
that  just  received  will  insure  yonr  immediate  dismissal  from  my 
employment.  I  will  not  be  so  insulted.  I  want  and  will  hare 
every  legal  vote  to  which  I  am  entitled.  If  anybody  has  anything 
to  sell,  let  him  apply  to  those  who  will  buy,  not  to  me." 

Even  the  major's  opponents  were  obliged  to  admit 
that,  with  all  his  faults,  they  never  knew  him  to  be 
caught  in  a  corrupt  act  in  politics. 

After  dictating  the  above  reply,  he  said : 

"  The  American  people  are  fools  to  expose  them- 
selves to  such  dangers,  and  their  candidate  to  such 
temptations.  This  whole  system  of  electing  a  presi- 
dent ought  to  have  been  thrown  overboard  years 
ago." 

His  visitors  soon  after  departing,  Brewster  and  Dan- 
forth found  themselves  alone  in  the  room.  He  mo- 


COUNTING  THE  VOTE.  133 

tioned  his  secretary  to  a  chair  near  him,  and  Danforth 
sat  down  in  a  respectful  and  expectant  attitude.  For 
more  than  ten  years  he  had  stood  in  the  closest  possi- 
ble relations  with  his  employer.  Indeed,  that  term  is 
too  formal  and  cool  to  describe  the  intimacy,  faithful- 
ness, and  affection  existing  between  them.  It  was  even 
closer  and  more  confidential  than  that  of  father  and 
son,  at  least  of  most  fathers  and  sons,  for  it  was  one 
of  entire  independence  on  Danfortli's  part,  and,  as  a 
natural  consequence,  of  neither  strained  nor  arbitrary 
authority  on  Brewster's.  He  was  the  depository  of 
Brewster's  plans,  purposes,  and  ambitions,  who  had 
never  had  occasion  to  regret  or  withdraw  any  trust  he 
had  reposed  in  him.  Danforth,  in  turn,  perennially 
admired  the  resources  and  adroitness  of  the  veteran 
politician;  his  readiness  and  versatility;  his  protean 
adaptation  to  the  hundreds  of  situations  and  the  myr- 
iads of  people  that  often  on  the  instant  he  had  to  en- 
counter; his  always  interesting  conversation,  and  the 
suggestiveness  and  tartness  of  his  phraseology. 

Danforth  now  looked  at  him  curiously,  to  see  what, 
if  any,  plan  or  purpose  he  still  held  in  reserve;  but 
Brewster,  carelessly  throwing  his  leg  over  the  arm  of 
the  chair,  seemed  as  little  like  a  traditional  leader  or 
conspirator  as  it  is  possible  to  imagine. 

Suddenly,  however,  changing  his  attitude,  he  leaned 
forward,  and,  in  spite  of  the  emptiness  of  the  room, 
talked  for  a  long  time  in  a  voice  scarcely  raised  above 
a  whisper.  Once  or  twice  he  stopped,  and  both  he 
and  Danforth  listened  intently,  but  the  mouse,  as  they 
finally  adjudged  the  source  of  the  noise  to  be,  retired 


134  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

from  their  deliberations  and  left  them  to  further  con- 
ference undisturbed. 

But  again  Brewster  stopped,  and,  rising,  threw  aside 
the  wing  of  the  screen. 

"What  are  yon  doing  here?"  he  thundered,  gazing 
at  a  human  mound  heaped  upon  Lawrence's  table,  and 
crowned  with  a  thick  grayish  vegetation.  In  response 
to  Brewster's  question  there  was  neither  speech  nor 
motion. 

"Perceval,  get  up!"  said  Brewster,  shaking  the 
huge  shoulders.  "  Can  't  you  choose  a  more  comfort- 
able bed  than  this?  One  would  think  he  had  been 
educated  as  a  policeman,"  he  added,  after  a  short  pause, 
in  which  Perceval  did  not  move. 

Alarmed,  he  shook  the  sleeper  again,  who,  rolling 
slowly  from  side  to  side,  at  last  sat  up,  rubbing  his 
eyes  and  blinking.  Inspecting  him  closely,  Brewster 
said,  with  some  sharpness: 

"Go  to  bed  like  a  Christian!  I  don't  think  you 
take  to  vigils  very  gracefully." 

Perceval  staggered  sleepily  out  of  the  room,  Brews- 
ter watching  him  keenly. 

"  I  thought  he  went  out  half  an  hour  ago." 

"  So  did  I,"  said  Danforth.  "  lie  must  have  come 
in  again.  However,  he  was  so  dead  asleep  he  could 
have  heard  nothing." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  about  that.  He  was  altogether 
too  sleepy,  and  he  tried  to  gape  so  desperately." 

"  You  '11  never  know  from  his  demeanor  whether  he 
heard  anything  or  not,"  said  Danforth,  "  for  he  ex- 
hausts his  porteutious  airs  over  such  trifles  that  when 


COUNTING  THE  VOTE.  135 

he  really  has  something  to  cackle  over  he  can 't  do  it 
justice." 

"  I  must  watch  him.  I  can  easily  manage  him,  if 
it 's  worth  while,"  and  the  conversation  was  prolonged 
far  into  the  night. 

The  next  day  the  country  breathed  free  when  the 
vote  of  the  doubtful  State  was  cast  for  Brewster's  op- 
ponent. 

"  That  settles  it,"  everybody  said.  The  "  visitors," 
including  Starkey — one  of  Brewster's  secretaries  and 
the  author  of  the  obnoxious  dispatch — came  home. 
The  major  welcomed  him  very  heartily,  and  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  as  well  as  forgiven  that  deadly  in- 
sult. 


136  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

AN  UNACCOUNTABLE  VOTE. 

Brewster  betrayed  no  disappointment,  made  no 
laments.  His  opponents,  as  one  of  their  leading 
journals  remarked,  "rejoiced  and  were  exceeding 
glad.  The  people  had,  with  the  hot  iron  of  their 
wrath,  branded  upon  him  the  stigma  of  defeat.  It 
proved  that  no  man  with  tainted  reputation  or  self- 
advertised  craving  for  office  could  be  chosen  president 
of  the  United  States.  He  who,  with  any  hope  of  suc- 
cess, aspired  to  this  high  honor,  must  stand  in  the 
center  of  a  wider  horizon  than  that  measured  by  his 
own  short-sighted  selfishness  and  beneath  a  loftier 
sphere  than  that  spanned  by  his  morbid  and  unscru- 
pulous anxiety  to  seize  the  prize;"  which,  considering 
how  near  Brewster  came  to  getting  it,  and  that  the 
disrepute  and  the  craving  of  this  editor's  own  candidate, 
had  not  been  hidden  under  a  bushel  exactly,  was  put- 
ting it  rather  strong. 

When,  in  a  duel  with  Dickinson,  Andrew  Jackson 
was  hit,  he  concealed  his  hurt  and  killed  his  oppo- 
nent, who,  in  consequence  of  Jackson's  deliberately 
denying  him  that  last  consolation,  died  ignorant  of 
this  crowning  triumph  of  his  renowned  marksmanshi  p. 


AN  UNACCOUNTABLE  VOTE.  137 

In  like  manner,  Brewster  allowed  his  opponents  no 
chance  for  exultation  or  pity.  Calm  and  cheerful,  he 
took  up  the  thread  of  his  business  life  as  if  he  were 
always  only  a  manufacturer  and  merchant.  Bat  what 
a  yawning  chasm  between  the  nomination  and  the 
presidency,  which  he  had  vainly  tried  to  fill  with  a 
causeway  of  king's  treasures!  His  foot  was  on  the 
hither  brink;  he  slipped,  fell,  probably  never  to  rise 
again.  Those  who  know  not  the  fierce  hunger  of  the 
politician's  heart  know  not  its  desolation  and  despair 
when  his  years  of  cunning  and  pains -taking  toil  go 
down  into  hopeless  ruin.  To  hide  such  vital-gnawing 
pain  from  the  world  required  a  courage  and  philosophy 
of  which  Brewster  had  apparently  made  himself  so 
much  a  master,  that  even  his  enemies  said,  "He'd  turn 
lightning,  if  it  struck  him." 

But  when  the  electoral  colleges  met  to  elect  a  presi- 
dent, on  the  first  Wednesday  of  the  following  Decem- 
ber, these  enemies  thought  that  he  had  turned  light- 
ning so  that  it  struck  them. 

On  the  morning  of  that  day  Thaddeus  O'Brien, 
elected  governor  of  the  new-born  State  of  Idaho  by 
Brewster's  party,  the  previous  year,  was  sitting  in  the 
room  adjoining  that  in  which  the  "hard  money" 
electors  met.  A  note  from  one  of  them,  Wendell 
Hawkins,  was  sent  in,  begging  him  if  he  heard  a  row 
in  the  next  room  to  come  in,  bringing  his  "  army  and 
navy"  with  him.  The  voices  presently  growing  loud 
enough  to  justify  his  interpretation  of  "a  row,"  the 
governor  rushed  in,  pistol  in  pocket. 

Tom  Lunt,  an  elector  and  one  of  the  principal  mine- 


138  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

owners  in  the  State,  was  shaking  his  fist  in  Hawkins's 
face,  exclaiming, 

"  You  're  a traitor! " 

"We  won  't  stand  any  such  nonsense  if  you 're  fool- 
ing, or  any  snch  villainy  if  you  mean  it,"  said  Andy 
Mack,  the  other  elector,  land-surveyor,  and  engineer. 

"What 'sail  this?"  asked  the  governor,  coming 
forward. 

"None  of  your  business!"  said  Lunt,  savagely, 
"  when  we  want  you  we  '11  send  for  you.  It 's  one  of 
your  rascally  tricks." 

"Don't  get  excited!"  said  Governor  O'Brien,  I 
have  n't  the  slightest  notion  what  it 's  all  about.  Haw- 
kins, you  seem  to  be  the  only  level-headed  man;  sup- 
pose you  tell." 

Hawkins,  who  stood  slowly  stroking  his  long,  black 
beard,  said  with  deliberation. 

"  I  have  cast  my  vote,  according  to  the  dictates  of  my 
conscience,  for  Aaron  B.  Brewster,  as  President  of  the 
United  States." 

The  governor  halted  with  a  shock  of  surprise,  and 
then,  on  his  realizing  the  tremendous  consequence  of 
the  act,  his  face  brightened  with  triumph. 

•"That  is  right!"  he  exclaimed,  almost  jauntily. 
"  There 's  nothing  more  consoling  to  a  man  than  to  do 
what  his  conscience  dictates." 

"  His  conscience  be .  My  conscience  dictates  to 

me  to  throw  the  cuss  out  of  the  window,"  said  Andy 
Mack. 

"Well,"  said  the  governor,  taking  out  his  pistol, 
"we  all  have  our  peculiar  scruples.  Mine  happen 


AN  UNACCOUNTABLE  VOTE.  139 

to  be  in  favor  of  fair  play.  Mr.  Hawkins  has  a  con- 
stitutional right  to  vote,  for  any  native-born  citizen 
of  the  United  States.  He  has  my  certificate  of  election 
and  he  will  vote  as  he  likes,  or  I  '11  know  the  reason 
why." 

With  many  growls,  threats,  oaths,  and  hard  names, 
the  proper  lists  were  made  out,  and  signed  by  the 
electors.  Whereupon  Andy  Mack  started  for  the  door. 
The  governor  was  there  first,  with  his  back  against  it. 

"  Not  yet,"  said  he.     "  Mr.  Hawkins  goes  first." 

He  let  him  out,  shut  the  door,  and  resumed  his 
position. 

•'We'll  not  have  any  interference  with  constitu- 
tional liberty  in  this  State,  as  long  as  I  am  governor; 
— no  mobs,  no  lynching.  In  an  hour  from  now  the 
door  '11  be  opened  and  then  if  any  harm  comes  to  him 
we  '11  know  whom  to  hold  responsible." 

So  saying,  the  governor,  taking  a  chair,  advised  the 
other  two  to  do  likewise  and  make  themselves  as  com- 
fortable as  possible. 

At  the  end  of  the  hour,  he  opened  the  door  and 
walked  out.  Lunt  and  Mack  lost  no  time  in  reveal- 
ing this  extraordinary  proceeding,  and  in  less  than 
fifteen  minutes  the  main  streat  of  the  town  was  filled, 
with  citizens  hurrying  to  and  fro,  talking,  swearing, 
and  demanding  to  lay  hands  upon  the  apostate  elec- 
tor. But  there  were  quite  as  many,  anxious  to  baffle 
these  enraged  partisans,  and  to  provoke  them  by  their 
smiles  and  happiness  at  the  sudden  change  in  the  po- 
litical aspect. 

There  were  cries  of  "  Where  is  he  ?"  "Hang  him!" 


IttO  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"Kill  the  traitor!"  "Throw  him  into  tire  canon!" 
The  governor  and  his  party  stood  ready  to  defend 
him;  and,  had  he  appeared,  it  would  have  been  an 
easy  matter  to  have  begun,  in  that  Idaho  wilderness, 
a  civil  wrar  which  might  have  spread  like  a  forest  fire. 
They  ran  to  Hawkins'  store.  His  clerks,  pale  with 
fear,  knew  nothing  of  him.  They  searched  his  hotel, 
lie  had  not  been  there  since  breakfast.  They  ex- 
plored the  suburbs,  watched  the  railroad  station. 
Only  two  men  remembered  seeing  him  after  the  hour 
for  the  meeting  of  the  electors.  The  woods,  the  mines 
and  an  old  quarry  were  vainly  ransacked.  About 
sundown,  Hawkins's  large  maltese  cat,  Hezekiah,  a  re- 
nowned Jiabitue  of  his  store,  was  found  sitting  on  its 
master's  coat  and  vest,  on  the  brink  of  a  narrow 
canon  three  miles  from  town.  Below,  at  a  depth  of 
four  hundred  feet,  roared  the  whirling  current. of  the 
river,  lapping  the  steep,  smooth  walls  with  their 
yeasty  waves,  and  then  plunging  madly  over  a  ledge 
of  rocks  in  a  cataract  of  foam.-  No  human  being 
could  leap  into  the  flood  and  be  swept  over  the  fall 
with  any  hope  of  life.  Even  the  recovery  of  his  bat- 
tered body  would  be  an  impossibilit}7. 

In  an  inside  coat  pocket  was  a  manuscript  which 
appeared  next-  morning  in  the  newspapers. 

He  claimed  a  legal  and  moral  right  to  vote  for  any 
eligible  citizen  of  the  United  States.  It  was  origin- 
ally intended  that  electors  should  do  so;  for,  during  the 
first  fifty  years  the  modern  convention  and  its  candi- 
dates were  unknown.  He  had  discharged  his  duties  as 
a  citizen,  without  fear  or  favor.  He  expected  to  suffer. 


AN  UNACCOUNTABLE  VOTE.  141 

Men,  true  to  their  convictions,  often  did;  but  he  would 
rather  take  the  consequences  of  doing  his  duty  than 
the  responsibility  of  not  doing  it. 

The  Idaho  Crystal  said  there  were  no  evidences  of 
corruption;  the  man  seemed  to  be  the  victim  of  amor- 
bid  conscience,  and  a  perverted  idea  of  duty.  He  had 
fled,  unable  to  endure  the  tempest  of  indignation  which 
swept  down  upon  him  like  a  snow-storm  on  the  moun- 
tain passes. 

~Now  it  was  remembered  that  he  had  often  praised 
the  "  battle-born  greenback,"  and  cursed  the  leniency 
of  the  government  that  allowed  traitors  to  go  unhung. 
But  he  was  a  "  straight  party  man ;"  had  always  "  voted 
the  ticket,"  was  "  unflinching,"  "  stalwart,"  and  "  loy- 
al." What  more  could  you  ask? 

Mr.  Bunkery,  in  a  speech  of  congratulation  to  his 
constituents  in  Injannerville,  lauded  Hawkins's  con- 
science as  one  of  which  Luther  himself  might  have 
been  proud.  His  act,  he  said,  was  a  revival  of  that 
antique  heroism  which  founded  the  republic  and  in- 
vented the  electoral  system.  It  brought  back  those 
days  of  purity,  etc.  Though  he  died  by  his  own  act 
to  escape  outrage,  Wendell  Hawkins  was  a  martyr  to 
his  conscience,  and  his  murderers  must  pass  sleepless 
nights  if  the  ghost  of  their  victim  haunted  their  pil- 
lows and  accused  them  of  his  taking  off. 

Many  conscientious  men  who  had  voted  for  Brews- 
ter  secretly  disapproved  the  act,  but  not  one  in  ten 
thousand  had  the  boldness  to'  say  so.  They  were  hon- 
est, pious,  God-fearing  men,  scrupulous  in  business 
and  truthful  of  speech.  They  taught  their  children  not 


142  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

to  lie  or  cheat,  for  they  sincerely  scorned  lying  and 
cheating  in  private  life.  But  in  politics  they  were  gov- 
erned by  another  standard.  The  danger  of  ruin  to  the 
country  from  the  success  of  the  other  party  reconciled 
them  to  their  own  party's  reaping  the  advantage  of 
conduct  which  in  their  hearts  they  severely  condemned. 
Therefore,  they  kept  silence  and  awaited  results. 

On  the  other  hand,  Senator  Joslyn  declared  it  was 
the  rottenest  deed  since  Judas  betrayed  his  master. 
Brewster,  he  said,  was  capable  of  acts  for  which  his 
fellow-citizens  had  to  blush — since  he  never  blushed  on 
his  own  account — but  he  did  not  believe  that  even  he 
would  avail  himself  of  this  treachery.  Certainly,  no 
man  of  the  least  self-respect  would  accept  an  office 
obtained  in  so  foul  a  fashion. 

Of  course  Senator  Joslyn's  party  believed  this,  and 
sincerely  believed  it;  but  it  is  wonderful  how  much 
easier  it  was  to  believe  it  of  the  other  party  and  its 
leader,  than,  tinder  the  same  circumstances,  it  would 
have  been  to  believe  it  of  their  own. 

But  Brewster  dreamed  of  refusing  as  he  would  of 
refusing  to  live  in  a  house  because  the  builder  had 
cheated  the  workmen. 

"  Why  should  n't  I  accept  it?"  he  said.  "  It  is  the 
best  service  I  can  do  my  countrymen.  It  will  pre- 
vent the  dreaded  struggle  in  the  House  of  Represen- 
tatives that  will  plunge  us  into  unhealthful  and  paralyz- 
ing excitement.  It  will,  I  trust,  put  an  end  to  the 
awkward  electoral  system.  The  American  people  owe 
a  debt  of  gratitude  to  the  departed  Hawkins  for  show- 
ing them  the  stupidity  of  adhering  to  it  after  it  has 


AN  UNACCOUNTABLE  VOTE.  U3 

outlived  its  usefulness,  and  I  should  prove  myself  an 
unworthy  successor  of  the  early  presidents,  by  declin- 
ing an  office  to  which  I  have  been  duly  chosen  in 
accordance  with  their  own  plan." 

Brewster  had  in  his  composition  many  of  the  ele- 
ments of  "  the  strong  man,"  and  by  many  had  been 
admired  and  supported  because  of  the  assurance  they 
felt  that,  if  he  chose  to  regard  himself  elected,  he 
would  take  the  office  without  scruple  or  hesitation. 

And  the  tamed  and  torpid  nation,  its  indignation 
fatigued  by  repeated  outrages  from  "  returning  boards  " 
South,  and  "  councils  "  and  "  canvassers  "  North,  acqui- 
esced in  this  latest  method  of  Mexicanising  its  politics. 


144  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

REWARD  OF  MERIT. 

"WHEN  Carroll  yielded  to  Brewster's  temptation  he 
had,  as  we  know,  hoped  not  only  for  the  great  man's 
sanction  to  the  dearest  wish  of  .his  heart,  but  for  a 
political  recognition  of  his  ability  and  fame — a  seat  in 
the  Cabinet,  perhaps — at  least  a  foreign  mission.  At 
an  early  day,  therefore,  he  reported  himself  at  the  hotis.e 
in  Bonanza  Square. 

"  I  congratulate  you  on  yonr  remarkable  luck,"  said 
he,  after  an  exchange  of  greetings. 

"  Some  people  call  it  luck,"  said  the  President-elect. 

"  It  was  Frederick  the  Great's  advice,  %vasn't  it?  to 
kill  a  Russian  first,  and  knock  him  down  afterwards. 
People  begin  to  think  that  that  is  the  only  way  you  '11 
ever  be  disposed  of." 

"  Yigilance  and  hard  work,"  said  Brewster,  "  that  is 
all;  it's  the  secret  of  most  success.  Capitalists  are 
like  children — easily  scared  and  easily  soothed.  The 
very  moment  they  succeeded  in  heading  us  off,  they 
began  talking  about  the  short-lived  mania  and  the  to- 
tal collapse  of  our  movement.  For  my  part  I  was 
quite  willing  to  encourage  that  idea.  It  put  them  off 
their  guard  and  gave  us  a  chance.  However,  Satan 


REWARD  OF  MERIT.  145 

himself  is  more  likely  to  behave  in  a  handsome  inaugu- 
ration suit  and  a  silk  hat,  and  I  may  disappoint  them 
yet," 

"  Yes,"  said  Carroll,  seizing  on  these  words  for  the 
relief  of  his  conscience;  "with  your  intelligence  and 
executive  talent,  you  might  make  your  administration 
illustrious.  For,"  he  added  gingerly,  "  a  man  on  as- 
suming his  responsibilities  may  take  a  very  different 
view  of  his  duty  from  the  one  he  held  when  soliciting 
them." 

"  In  plain  English,"  said  Brewster,  "  obtain  an  of- 
fice under  false  pretenses  and  then  betray  his  part}7." 

"  Hawkins  did,  and  made  you  president,"  said  Car- 
roll, bluntly. 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  other  gravely;  "  but  on  the 
other  hand,  every  man  must  be  governed  by  his  own 
ideas  of  duty.  Hawkins's  might,  or  might  not,  be 
mine." 

"  You  '11  be  in  a  position  to  check  excesses,  at  any 
rate,"  said  Carroll,  "  and  I  was  thinking  that  having 
been  made  president  by  a  vote  which  disregarded 
party,  you  could  afford  to  disobey  the  party  law  which 
turns  out  every  officeholder  and  pnts  a  new  one  in  his 
place." 

"  That  would  be  a  very  severe  test  to  apply  to  the 
loyalty  of  my  followers  and  friends,"  said  Brewster, 
looking  keenly  at  the  young  man.  "They  would 
curse  me  worse  than  if  I  went  back  on  my  principles." 

"O,"  said  Carroll,"  I  don't  mean  the  principal 
offices — cabinet  positions  and  the  like,  I  mean  the 
'  clean  sweep '  every  one  is  expecting  you  to  make. 
10 


14:6  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

Your  opponents  are  already  saying  that  it  will  be  a 
great  outrage  if  you  turn  the  civil  service  topsy- 
turvy." 

"Ah,  indeed!  that  will  be  bad — to  shock  them. 
I  've  heard  before  now  of  women  in  low-necked  dresses 
recoiling  at  an  excess  of  immodest  ankle.  There's 
nothing  for  sharpening  a  politician's  eye-sight,"  con- 
tinued Brewster,  offering  his  visitor  a  cigar,  which  he 
declined,  "  like  thrusting  him  into  the  hold  of  the 
Ship  of  State  and  fastening  down  the  hatches  on  him. 
When  he  gets  used  to  the  dark,  he  sees  heaps  of 
offensive  things  which  when  he  was  in  command  on 
deck,  and  the  other  fellows  below,  he  never  even 
dreamed  of." 

"There's  a  good  deal  in  that,"  said  Carroll  "and 
yet  the  evils  exist,  whether  you  look  or  overlook." 

"  Well,  to  come  down  to  practical  matters,"  said 
Brewster  brusquely,  "  what  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"Is  Miss  Winifred  at  home?"  asked  Carroll. 

"  I  believe  so,"  said  her  father,  ringing  the  bell  and 
ordering  the  servant  to  inquire. 

She  sent  word  that  she  would  be  down  immediately. 

Carroll  had  hardly  seated  himself  in  the  drawing- 
room  when  she  entered.  The  sincerity  of  her  welcome 
both  charmed  and  alarmed  him.  He  was  doubtful  if 
she  would  have  received  with  such  free-spoken  kind- 
ness one  whom  she  recognized  as  a  blossoming  lover. 
The  dashing  orator,  the  easy  man  of  the  world  had 
disappeared.  Love  had  stripped  him  of  these  dis- 
guises, and  he  stood  like  a  timid  youth  taking  her 
offered  hand. 


REWARD  OF  MERIT.  147 

It  was  just  what  he  had  longed  for  through  all  the 
busy  months  since  the  week  on  the  yacht.  When  his 
conscience  rebelled  at  the  insults  done  it,  it  was  this 
vision  which  consoled  him.  It  charmed  him  in  his 
disgust  at  the  ineffectiveness  of  his  efforts.  Indeed, 
in  his  great  successes  previously,  his  oratory  was  never, 
in  any  sense,  an  effort.  But  in  this  summer's  work, 
his  intellect  and  his  conscience  had  not  been  in  tune. 
Half  his  powers  were  wasted  in  silencing  the  discord, 
until  he  was  weary  and  sick  with  the  task.  Goading 
his  reluctant  spirit  to  its  drudgery,  and  hating  both 
himself  and  the  irksome  despotism  of  his  half-hearted- 
ness,  he  barely  droned  through  his  perfunctory  duty. 
Hence  the  audiences  that  gathered  at  the  sight  and 
sound  of  his  name  went  away  disappointed.  He  but 
rang  the  changes  that  had  been  dinned  for  a  life-time 
into  their  ears,  and  afforded  them  little  of  either  nov- 
elty or  suggestiveness.  It  was  generally  conceded  by 
all  of  Brewster's  party  managers,  who  had  watched 
his  pilgrimages,  that  Carroll  was  "a  dead  failure." 

Even  his  delight  at  seeing  her  again,  and  this 
atmosphere,  fragrant  with  luxury,  with  love,  and  her 
exclusive  companionship,  recalled  the  odious  and  mel- 
ancholy summer.  He  remembered  how  at  times  the 
hot  and  noisy  crowds  and  the  blatant  politicians  would 
fade  from  sight;  and  in  theii  place  would  come  the 
sweet  scene  now  realized,  only  to  disgust  him  the 
more  when  he  was  face  to  face  again  with  populace 
and  politics.  Now  the  ignorance  and  self-seeking  had 
vanished  into  t"he  far-off  past;  the  bad  air  and  the 
noise  and  the  riot  had  gone  quite  out  of  the  world^ 


148  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

From  the  conservatory  came  the  sweet  breath  of  flow- 
ers, and  the  little  fountain  in  the  midst  of  them 
tinkled  an  accompaniment  to  Winifred's  gracious  chat- 
ting. 

They  talked  of  Tom,  the  yacht,  the  passage  of  the 
summer,  and  then  he  said  abruptly. 

"  I  have  quite  forgotten  to  congratulate  you  on  being 
such  a  rare  woman." 

His  sudden  compliment  confused  her  a  little  and  she 
looked  inquiringly. 

"  Yes; — a  president's  daughter.  They  are  rarer  than 
presidents.  They  have  scarcely  been  seen  of  late  years. 
Perhaps  they  are  becoming  extinct." 

"  The  rara  avis  ought  to  pipe  a  song  of  thanks  to  you ; 
for  there 's  no  telling  how  much  your  speeches  and  hard 
work  have  done  toward  it." 

"  If  she  felt  only  a  little  grateful,  I  should  be  re- 
warded even  for  the  hardest  part,  which  was  staying 
away  so  long  as  I  have.  Many  a  time,  I  have  thought 
of  all  this  pleasantness,  of  you,  Miss  Winifred,  and 
have  promised  myself  a  holiday  the  very  next  week; 
but  the  time  went  by  and  every  day  seemed  busier 
and  more  pressing  than  the  one  before.  I  don't 
think,  however,"  he  added  quickly,  "  that  you  would 
have  anything  to  thank  me  for,  even  if  it  could  be 
proved  that  I  made  you  a  president's  daughter.  I 
cannot  bear  to  think  of  you  loaded  down  with  cares 
and  social  duties.  I  don  't  like  to  think  of  so  many 
having  a  right  to  your  smiles  and  kind  words." 

"  It  was  very  good  of  you  when  you  were  so  busy," 
she  said,  almost  interrupting  him,  "  to  send  me  that 


REWARD  OF  MERIT.  149 

box  of  lilies;  the  perfume  hung  around  it  for  a  week. 
I  made  a  little  sketch  of  them." 

She  arose  and  brought  from  a  wall-cabinet  a  water- 
color  drawing  of  them.  He  looked  at  it  with  a  lov- 
er's admiration. 

"How  much  more  it  must  be  to  your  liking,  to 
indujge  your  tastes  of  this  sort,  than  to  be — if  you '11 
excuse  my  saying  it — on  exhibition. " 

"  Wljy,"  she  said  gaily,  "  you  make  me  feel  almost 
like  a  great  moral  show  in  a  tent,  with  a  hand-organ, 
and  a  monstrous  picture  outside." 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  good  deal  like  that.  The  White  House 
answers  the  description  very  well." 

"  O,  Mr.  Carroll,  I  'd  be  glad  to  keep  out  of  it— ex- 
cept on  father's  account, —  at  least  I  think  I  would. 
I'm  not  much  dazzled  by  it." 

"  O,  I  was  sure  of  that,"  he  said,  so  radiantly  that  she 
regretted  her  speech  on  account  of  the  construction 
she  saw  he  had  put  upon  it.  "A  woman  like  you 
naturally  finds  a  private,  quiet  life  far  more  to  her 
tastes." 

He  looked  ardently  at  her,  and  she  cast  an  almost 
imploring  glance  at  him,  as  if  begging  him  riot  to  go, 
or  come,  any  further.  Then  she  added  gravely : 

"  Yes,  but  women  have  so  little  to  say  in  the  order- 
ing  of  their  lives.  Mine  is  quite  bound  up  with  my 
father's." 

She  said  this  with  an  earnest  emphasis,  and  clasped 
her  hands  together  with  a  gesture  of  seriousness  that 
boded  no  good  to  him.  He  felt,  rather  than  perceived, 
that  the  tide  of  her  feelings  was  against  him. 


150  A  FAMO  US  VIC  TOR  Y. 

"But  Le  may  release  you.  May  I  ask  him  ?  Will 
you  let  me  ask  him  to  release  you,  Miss  Wini- 
fred ? "  he  pleaded  vehemently. 

"  I  do  not  think  he  would.  We  made  a  compact — he 
and  I — to  stand  by  each  other;  always  to  make  a  home 
for  one  another;  and  he  would  need  give  me  permis- 
sion" to  break  it." 

"Do  not  evade  me,  dear  Miss  Winifred,"  begged 
Carroll,  in  a  tone  that  touched  her  pity.  "  1  love  you; 
love  you  dearly;  Hove  you  with  my  whole  heart.  I 
have  a  right  to  know  if  you  will  listen  to  me.  Will 
you  not  deal  with  me  as  frankly  as  I  do  with  you  ? " 

"  It  would  only  pain  you,"  she  answered  in  a  low 
voice,  as  if  that  might  not  wound  him  so  deeply. 
"  Please  do  not  urge  it! " 

"Urge  it!  Miss  Winifred!  I  can't  do  anything 
but  urge  it.  It  is  all  I  care  for.  I  will  not  harrass  you ; 
I  will  not  persecute  you  with  my  urgency;  but  I 
love  you;  I  love  you  dearly;  you  are  all  the  world  to 
me.  Won 't  you  accept  my  love  and  grant  me  yours  ?" 

She  cast  down  her  eyes,  saying  nothing,  but  patting 
the  carpet  softly,  nervously,  with  her  foot.  Her  com- 
passion kept  back  the  denial  that  was  on  her  lips.  She 
looked,  she  prayed,  for  an  interruption.  But  nothing 
or  nobody  intervened,  and  he  sat  inexorably  waiting  for 
an  answer. 

"  O,  Mr.  Carroll,  you  make  me  say,  what,  for  your 
sake,  I  would  almost  rather  be  dumb  than  say.  I 
cannot  grant  you  what  you  ask." 

"  O,  do  not  speak  so  resolutely,"  he  said,  contradict- 
ing his  urgency  almost  in  the  same  breath,  "  wait!  re- 


REWARD  OF  MERIT.  151 

fleet!  tell  me  to-morrow!  next  week;  I  have  confused 
and  troubled  you;  forgive  my  thoughtlessness!  Par- 
don all  to  my  love  for  you.  If  you  only  knew  how 
much  it  is  to  me,  you  would  not  refuse  me  so  sternly." 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his  a  moment,  clear,  truthful, 
firm,  and  said  in  a  tone  against  which,  rather  than 
words,  he  felt  it  useless  to  plead. 

"  Forgive  me  if  I  have  ever  said  or  done  anything 
to  make  you  think  otherwise — to  mislead  you.  I 
would  not  for  all  the  world  trifle  with  an  honest  love 
like  yours;  but  I  know  nothing,  I  feel  nothing,  Mr. 
Carroll,  that  reflection  can  change  or  time  ripen." 

It  sounded  abrupt  and  cruel  to  her,' though  she  tried 
her  best  to  soften  it;  but  on  the  whole  it  was  best  so. 
He  had  demanded  her  inmost  thought  and  she  gave  it 
him. 

He  paused  a  moment,  stunned  by  the  blow  he  had 
both  feared  and  invited. 

"  Perhaps  if  you  knew  me  better,"  he  went  on ;  "if 
you  could  but  have  time  to  appreciate  the  love  which 
your  sweet  presence  and  gentleness  have  stirred 
within  me;  if  you  could  understand  how  entirely  I 
would  consecrate  myself  to  your  happiness;  how  no- 
ble a  life  I  would  henceforth  live  for  your  sake,  you 
would  see  your  way  to  return,  perhaps,  only  a  little, 
but  still  a  little,  of  the  love  you  have  made  me  feel 
for  you." 

"  O,  do  not  add  to  what  is  all  too  painful,  Mr.  Car- 
roll. I  would  gladly  take,  if  I  could,  all  the  penalty 
for  the  mistake,  the  misunderstanding,  the  unfortu- 
nate construction — have  I  been  heedless?  I  did  not 


152  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

mean  to  be.  Forgive  me!  I  pray  you  forgive  me.  I 
will  be  your  life-long  friend;  1  will  promote  your  wel- 
fare in  any  way  that  lies  in  my  power." 

"  O,  there  is  but  one  way,  only  one  way!"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"  I  can  give  you  no  other  answer — neither  now,  or 
hereafter,"  she  said,  with  such  compassionate  tender- 
ness that  even  her  denial  thrilled  him. 

Then,  recalling  his  manhood,  and  humiliated  at  the 
outcome  of  her  father's  cunning  and  his  own  weak- 
ness, he  arose,  and,  after  saying:  "  Yes,  let  us  be  good 
friends,"  he  bade  her  good-night. 

He  sought  her  father  in  his  library,  resolved  to  ap- 
peal to  his  promised  intervention,  if  there  were  any 
use  in  that.  He  still  hoped  that  she  might  not  be  so 
fixed  in  her  resolve  that  her  father's  influence  would 
fail  to  turn  the  scale  in  his  favor. 

Brewster  noticed  his  agitation,  and  readily  guessed 
the  cause  of  it 

"  You  were  kind  enough  to  ask  what  you  could  do 
for  me,"  said  Carroll,  in  a  steadier  voice  than  he  had 
supposed  or  feared  he  could  command;  "  I  would  like 
to  tell  you,  though  perhaps  I  do  not  need  to  tell  you — 
how  much  Miss  Winifred  has  had  to  do  with  whatever 
service  I  have  been  able  to  render  you." 

"  Ah,  indeed ! "  said  Brewster,  with  an  air  of  sur- 
prise. 

"Oh,  yes,  very  much,"  said  Carroll,  warmly. 

Brewster  created  an  awkward  silence  by  making  no 
reply,  and  Carroll  hesitatingly  continued: 

"I  ask  your  influence  with  her,  not  as  a  reward  for 


REWARD  OF  MERIT.  153 

any  service  I  may  have  been  to  yon,  but  because  I 
know  how  precious  she  is  to  you,  and  that  you  have  a 
right  to  be  jealous  of  the  man  who  asks  such  a  favor." 

Brewster  was  listening  with  a  mixture  of  deference 
and  indifference  which  chilled  Carroll.  He  knew  that 
no  exact  words  had  ratified  the  bargain  between  him- 
self and  Winifred's  father;  yet  their  mutual  under- 
standing was  quite  clear.  Brewster  had  told  him  that 
Winifred  would  consult  her  father's  wishes  and  that 
he  had.  warned  away  a  rival  because  he  could  make  no 
use  of  him. 

"  I  cannot  be  anxious  about  anything  which  will 
take  her  from  me,"  said  Brewster,  coldly,  after  another 
pause,  "  but  you  are  at  liberty  to  speak  to  her." 

"  I  understood  you ; — I  thought  you  said,"  urged 
Carroll. 

"  I  was  provoked  at  the  time  by  Stratton's  criti- 
cism. I  believe  that  election  quarrels  like  election 
bets  should  be  settled  by  the  result.  I  shall  leave  her 
quite  free  in  her  choice;  but  you  had  better  speak  to 
her  and  quite  satisfy  yourself.  If  there  's  anything 
else  I  can  do  for  yon,  let  me  know." 

"  I  am  not  now  concerned  with  that,"  said  Carroll, 
"  but  I  do  not  think  you  have  redeemed  your  implied 
pledge  to  me  about  this — this — which  is  far  more  to 
me." 

"I'm  sorry  I  was  tempted  to  any  unwarranted 
speech,"  said  Brewster,  "but  when  one  is  excited  he  is 
liable  to  be  misled  by  his  tongue — or  his  ears,"  he 
added,  significantly. 

"  I  think  not"  replied  Carroll,  bidding  him  a  curt 


154  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

good-night  and  departing,  inwardly  enraged.  He  was 
chiefly  angry  at  himself  for  the  contemptible  part  he 
had  been  gulled  into  playing.  If  before  this  moment 
any  one  had  portrayed  such  a  simpleton  and  affixed 
his  name  to  it,  he  would  have  resented  it  as  a  gross 
caricature.  Now  he  could  see  only  the  shabby  and 
ridiculous  figure  he  presented.  He  was  a  mask  behind 
which  Brewster  had  spoken  to  the  public,  and  which, 
when  the  play  was  done,  he  threw,  with  his  other 
stage  properties,  indifferently  aside.  He  was  a  torch- 
light, a  cheap  banner,  a  flimsy  transparency  which, 
after  election,  are  destroyed  like  so  much  rubbish,  or 
put  away  in  the  lumber  rooms  until  wanted  for  the 
same  purpose  again. 

He  was  not  quite  angry  enough  to  imagine  that  the 
sweetest  girl  in  all  the  world  was  a  party  to  the  scheme 
— she  was  too  noble,  too  single-minded  for  that.  No, 
Brewster  had  made  use  of  her,  as,  to  further  his  ends, 
he  did  of  all  instrumentalities  within  reach.  Carroll 
very  naturally  concluded  that  he  had  had  enough  of 
him,  and  only  awaited  an  opportunity  to  make  that  fact 
quite  plain. 


'A  NEW  DEAL."  .  155 


CHAPTER    XYL 

"A  NEW  DEAL." 

WHILE  those  who  vote  against  a  successful  candidate 
for  the  presidency  always  imagine  his  inauguration  the 
first  step  toward  a  paradise  lost,  his  supporters  think 
it  a  paradise  regained.  Brewster's  party  expected  him 
to  remove  the  flaming  sword  of  fate  which  kept  them 
from  living  in  a  pleasure-garden,  without  work;  his 
opponents  were  equally  sure  that,  after  a  taste  of  the 
fruit  of  the  tree  of  knowledge,  the  nation  would  learn 
that  men  must  still  eat  bread  in  the  sweaj;  of  their 
brows.  On  such  occasions,  however,  the  chief  paradise, 
and  the  first  bread,  and  the  first  fruit,  are  the  one  hun- 
dred thousand  federal  offices,  and  the  sweat  is  to  get 
them. 

What  is  known  as  "  a  new  deal "  now  took  place, 
and  the  excitement  in  political  circles  was  intense. 
"A  new  deal"  is  a  system  of  government  not  un- 
known to  the  people  of  Burmah,  where  a  recent  king 
began  his  reign  by  chopping  off  the  heads  of  all  his 
predecessors'  relations.  It  was  a  favorite  device  dur- 
ing the  civil  wars  in  Rome,  when  the  successful  leader 
placed  all  his  active  enemies  on  a  proscription  list,  and 
'•  created  vacancies  "  in  their  households  or  their  places 


156  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

of  business,  by  allowing  any  who  met  them  to  eject 
them  with  a  sword  and  without  the  formality  of  a 
resignation. 

Even  those  "  queer  French  people,"  who  are  accused 
of  many  failures  in  self-government,  have  not  been  al- 
together backward  in  successfully  working  this  part 
of  the  "machine."  They  have  a  church  in  Paris, 
called  the  Pantheon,  where  they  operated  it  with 
entire  satisfaction.  One  set  came  into  the  government, 
bundled  the  de.\d  royalists  out  of  their  last  resting- 
places,  and  put  in  the  corpses  of  the  Yoltaires  and 
Mirabeaus.  Then  the  royalists  got  the  upper  hand 
and  off  came  the  epitaphs,  and  out  went  the  bones  of 
the  sceptics  and  revolutionists.  When  the  Bonapartes 
tumble  off  their  thrones,  their  imperial  "  bees "  and 
Napoleonic  "  N's  "  are  dug  out  or  picked  off  of  all  con- 
spicuous public  spots,  and.  the  avenues  stripped  of  im- 
perial names.  Now  the  republic  paints  out  the  names 
of  royalty,  and  once  more  the  Empire  posts  its  bills 
over  its  republican  rivals.  A  witty  woman  has  com- 
pared it  to  that  scene  in  the  farce,  where  Box  throws 
Cox's  bacon  out  of  the  window,  and  soon  after  Cox 
does  the  same  by  Box's  mutton-chop. 

Brewster,  however,  did  not  bother  himself  with  dead 
men.  He  liked  dealing  with  live  ones  much  better. 
He  rid  himself  of  incumbent  office-holders  with  the 
thoroughness  of  an  oriental  despot,  the  public  looking 
on  in  languid  amusement,  like  the  Roman  populace 
at  the  lions  devouring  Christians,  sorry  only  when 
some  "poor  little  lion,  away  off  in  the  corner,  did  n't 
come  in  for  his  share." 


'A  NEW  DEAL."  157 


This,  it  is  to  be  remembered,  happened  in  the  year 
18 — ,  and  its  introduction  as  the  chief  end  of  govern- 
ment seems  to  have  been  due  to  Brewster.  For,  ac- 
cording to  public  documents  of  previous  years,  the 
doctrine  that  the  United  States  Government  had  "the 
best  civil  service  on  the  planet"  was  regularly  included 
in  the  instruction  given  to  the  marines;  and  all  the 
party  "platforms"  affirmed  that  the  servants  of  the 
government  should  not  be  dismissed  from  office  so 
long  as  they  were  honest  and  efficient.  Unless  this 
had  been  the  common  practice  these  parties  would 
not  have  made  it  an  annual  profession  of  their  faith. 
To  suppose  otherwise  would  be  to  suppose  that  they 
said  things  for  effect  and  in  order  to  "carry"  the  "doubt- 
ful" districts. 

His  opponents  were  naturally  wroth  with  Brewster 
for  disregarding  their  traditions  and  practice.  They 
never  appointed  a  man  to  office  for  party  reasons. 
They  never  dismissed  one  solely  to  make  room  for 
some  congressman's  favorite,  or  a  senator's  "worker," 
or  to  reward  a  follower  who  had  helped  elect  a  presi- 
dent. They  never  looked  upon  office  as  conquerors 
used  to  look  upon  the  gold  and  the  silver,  the  wives 
and  the  concubines,  the  pictures  and  the  statuary  of 
those  they  conquered.  They  always  regarded  an  office 
as  a  place  for  the  best  and  most  competent  men,  who 
would  discharge  its  duties,  as  all  other  employes  are 
expected  to  do,  in  the  interests  of  their  employers — of 
the  whole  people  without  distinction  of  party. 

But  Brewster,  as  some  may  have  already  suspected, 
did  not  care  the  snap  of  his  finger  for  the  opinion  and 


153  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

example  of  the  "grand  old  party"  which  he.  had  de- 
feated by  means  no  previous  party  or  politician  had  so 
much  as  thought  of.  At  least,  it  is  to  be  presumed 
they  had  never  thought  of  them,  inasmuch  as  they  had 
never  resorted  to  them.  lie  was  an  unscrupulous  man. 
He  hated  the  very  goodness  and  conscientiousness 
of  his  predecessors.  If  he  had  so  much  as  sus- 
pected them  of  governing  without  scandal  or  dis- 
missing from  office  for  personal  misconduct  only, 
it  would  have  been  enough  to  stir  his  depravity  to  the 
very  depths  of  his  sinful  old  soul.  To  spurn  their  vir- 
tues and  spit  upon  their  spotlessness  was  his  meat  and 
his  drink.  And  so  in  order  to  wholly  free  his  admin- 
istration from  the  purity  and  unselfishness  which  had 
fairly  saturated  those  preceding  his,  this  bad  man 
expelled  from  garret  and  cellar  every  atom  of  the  up- 
rightness which  from  year  to  year  had  been  packed 
away  there,  and  which  he  detested  from  the  bottom  of 
his  wicked  heart.  In  place  of  these  good  men  he  put 
in  "  minions  "  and  "  camp-followers  "  of  his  own,  who, 
unlike  those  they  displaced,  wanted  an  office  for  the 
sake  of  its  salary,  or  the  influence  of  it,  or  to  help 
their  party,  not  simply  to  do  their  duty  and  serve  their 
country.  Even  in  those  cities  where  a  few  officials  had, 
for  their  own  convenience,  introduced  some  sort  of 
test  besides  a  man's  ability  to  "run"  the  caucus  and 
his  control  of  the  primaries,  Brewster's  new  broom 
swept  as  clean  as  it  did  in  other  places  where  neglect 
and  abases  undoubtedly  needed  the  free  use  of  his 
besom. 

Carroll  awaited  Brewster's  offer  of  a  position,  for 


'A  NEW  DEAL."  159 


the  purpose  not  of  accepting,  but  of  ostentatiously 
declining,  a  favor  from  an  administration  elected,  as  lie 
meant  to  put  it,  in  defiance  of  the  popular  vote,  and 
tainted  with  moral,  if  not  with  legal,  fraud. 

But  the  days  went  by,  and  the  gossip  over  probable 
appointments  did  not  include  his  name.  There  was 
an  equally  provoking  silence  in  respect  to  the  princi- 
pal custom-houses,  until  he  became  quite  convinced 
that  the  shrewd  president,  perhaps  suspecting  Carroll's 
mood  and  mind,  avoided  affording  him  the  opportu- 
nity of  flinging  the  commission  into  the  presidential 
face. 

Brewster  had,  in  fact,  never  intended  rewarding 
him  with  anything  he  would  have  accepted.  For, 
although  he  valued  his  oratory  and  the  temporary  in- 
fluence of  his  reputation  upon  the  "  campaign,"  he 
had  been  disappointed  in  the  results  and  had  no  use 
for  him  in  "practical"  politics.  His  moral  support 
and  his  speeches  before  election,  were,  as  he  had  imag- 
ined, well  worth  having,  but  after  it,  he  was  about  as 
"  available "  as  the  ten  commandments,  or  the  ser- 
mon on  the  mount.  He  knew  little  or  nothing  about 
the  management  of  the  "machine."  He  was  what  is 
called  "  an  amiable  theorist,"  more  interested  in  the 
merits  of  public  questions  than  the  "availability"  of 
candidates,  or  the  "  running "  of  caucuses  and  con- 
ventions. His  visionary  qualities  were  eminently  dis- 
played in  his  sanguine  belief  that  Wharton  would 
receive  the  nomination,  solely  on  the  strength  of  his 
learning,  his  judicial  temper,  and  his  charitable  non- 
part'sanship,  which  among  the  "  boys "  were  known 


1 60  A  FAMO  US  VICTOR  Y. 

as  "  taffy  "  and  "  soothing-sy nip  " ;  whereas  "Wharton 
had  not  "  a  solid  delegation  "  from  any  State,  nor  did 
lie  put  a  single  "worker"  into  "the  Held."  So  far  as 
they  did  not  envy  his  abilities,  Carroll  was  the  laugh- 
ing-stock of  the  politicians,  and  Brewster  had  no  notion 
of  exalting  him  to  a  conspicuous  place. 

Thoroughly  disgusted,  therefore,  he  took  passage 
on  a  European  steamer,  resolved  if  he  could  not  go 
abroad  as  an  American  vassal,  to  go  as  an  American 
sovereign.  Though  "  time  is  monej7,"  even  congress- 
ional fiat  is  unequal  to  the  creation  of  that  universal 
currency,  and  President  Brewster  had  already  spent, 
beyond  hope  of  reissue,  more  than  two  years  of  his 
official  term,  before  our  traveler  returned. 


VL'XKERY,  THE  STATESMAN.  161 


CHAPTER    XYIT. 

BUNKERY,  THE  STATESMAN. 

MK.  THOMAS  BULLION  BUNKERY  was  walking  down 
the  principal  street  of  Injannerville,  in  the  State  of 
"  Injanner,"  of  which  he  was  a  representative  in  Con- 
gress, lie  was  a  man  of  impressive  presence;  though 
it  was  a  presence  of  body  rather  than  of  mind;  and  was 
endowed  with  a  red-blooded  vigor  which  served  him  well 
in  haranguing  his  fellow-citizens  and  raising  the  start- 
ling war-cries  of  his  party.  His  lungs  were  rated  as 
the  strongest  in  the  country,  and  his  throat  of  the  best 
Sax-horn  variety.  Towering  like  a  huge  chimney 
above  his  fellow  Congressmen,  he  belched  forth  a  vol- 
ume of  noise  that  seemed  to  roll  away  in  a  cloud  and 
spread  itself  over  the  galleries  and  ceiling  of  the  hall. 

Lofty,  massive,  he  strode  on,  conscious  of  admirers 
who  nudged  each  other  and  of  heads  which  turned 
and  looked  after  him. 

Such  was  the  statesman,  who,  according  to  the  tes- 
timony of  Perceval  and  Carroll  in  their  morning's 
talk  about  him  at  Major  Brewster's,  could  master  any 
branch  of  the  science  of  government  at  a  week's 
notice,  and  who  now,  on  the  eve  of  his  second  Con- 
gressional terra,  was  engrossed  in  those  tasks  of  states- 
11 


162  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

manship  which  exhaust  the  energies  and  tax  the  intel- 
lects of  so  many  public  men  in  the  United  States. 

Entering  the  sober-fashioned,  smoky-tinted  Govern- 
ment building,  he  walked  along  the  corridor;  the  post- 
office  clerks  behind  the  glass  partition  half-timidly, 
half-servilly  glancing  at  him,  knowing  that  in  this 
land  of  freedom  and  equal  rights,  bread  and  batter, 
shelter  and  comfort  for  wives  and  babes  depended  on 
his  nod. 

If  any  doubted  Bnnkery's  grandeur,  it  was  because 
they  were  not  daily  readers  of  his  "  organ,"  the  "  In- 
janner  Ledger,"  of  which  he  was  the  principal  stock- 
holder. If  its  rivals  were  credible,  its  "  paragraphs  " 
consisted  mainly  of  tributes  to  his  greatness  scissored 
from  the  country  newspapers  owned  by  Bunkery's  post- 
masters. Its  continued  story  was  a  biography  of  Bunk- 
ery,  from  his  co-partnership  in  the  country  store  of  his 
native  village  down  to  date  of  publication.  Instead 
of  a  "chromo  "  or  a  dictionary,  its  premium  for  the 
largest  list  of  subscribers  was  a  volume  of  his  thrill- 
ing speeches  upon  the  average  depth  of  water  in  the 
catfish  creeks  of  "  Injanner,"  and  the  piteous  outcry 
of  commerce  for  their  enlargement  at  the  expense  of 
the  National  Treasury. 

They  said,  too,  that  with  all  his  public  merits,  Bunk- 
ery  had  his  private  virtues,  which,  somehow,  seldom, 
if  ever,  became  public.  Nevertheless,  he  was  generous 
to  a  fault — if  it  were  one  of  his  own — and  his  charity 
— for  human  weakness — began  at  home.  If  it  never 
got  far  abroad,  it  was  because  it  found  employment 
enough  indoors.  At  the  sight  of  distress  he  would 


BUNKERY,  THE  STATESMAN.  163 

put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  rattle  his  keys  with  a 
chink  of  benevolence  that  meant  as  much  as  other 
people's  handing  out  a  five  dollar  note,  but  he  was  al- 
ways ready  with  a  bill  for  the  relief  of  misery  at  the 
expense  of  the  Government. 

As  he  proceeded  down  the  street  this  morning,  he 
was  stopped  every  few  minutes  by  some  acquaintance 
or  "  camp-follower,"  for  the  purpose  either  of  asking 
him  for  an  office,  or  of  reporting  the  temperature,  di- 
rection of  the  wind,  and  other  probabilities  of  party 
weather  in  Old  Banner,  Bismarck,  or  Steubensky  coun- 
ties. 

Crossing  the  area  in  the  rear  of  the  Government 
building,  he  met,  in  the  middle  of  this  interior  court,  an 
acquaintance  who  took  him  by  the  hand. 

This  person  was  as  tall  as  himself;  but  his  swarthy 
leanness  and  long,  straight  black  hair  falling  to  his 
shoulders,  his  bristling  moustaches,  his  walnut-shaped 
chin,  and  his  parchment  skin  drawn  tight  over  his 
clearly-marked  jaw,  were  in  striking  contrast  with 
Bunkery's  own  ruddiness  and  orange-colored  whiskers. 

The  new-comer  was  "  Colonel  "  Aiken,  formerly  of 
Texas,  whose  acquaintance  Bunkery,  on  his  way  to  rep- 
resent his  native  country  as  Minister  to  France,  had 
made  aboard  the  ocean  steamer.  Though  compara- 
tively seedy  now,  he  wore,  when  Bunkery  first  knew 
him,  a  glaring  bosom  pin,  gorgeous  sleev.e-buttons  and 
a  watch-chain  with  jingling  seals. 

The  Colonel  was  lavish  with  champagne  and  cigars, 
and  prominent  at  u  shuffle-board "  and  in  "pool-sell- 
ing" on  the  daily  "  run  "  of  the  steamer.  He  was  the 


164  A  FAMO  US  VICTOR  Y. 

retired  editor  and  proprietor  of  the  notorious  "  Bazook 
Banner,"  which  at  one  time  apparently  threatened  to  be 
the  occasion  or  provocation  of  another  civil  war.  In 
the  quickly-growing  confidences  of  an  ocean  voyage, 
he  imparted  to  Bnnkery  what  he  was  pleased  to  call  the 
secret  of  his  success. 

"Yes,  sah!"  said  he,  in  a  burst  of  chat  one  pleasant 
afternoon  on  deck:  "Advertise!  Advertise!  Adver- 
tisin'  's  the  life  of  trade.  I  was  always  brought  up  to 
that,  and  I  always  believed  in  it.  I  go  for  advertisin' 
myself,  and  doin'  it  cheap.  Anybody  can  spend  a 
fortune  advertising  the  thing  is  to  get  it  done  for 
nothin'.  You  want  to  startle  folks;  give  'em  a  shock; 
make  'em  look  at  you.  There"'s  all  kinds  o'  ways — 
murder,  scandal,  and  lecturin'  afterwards;  any  of 
those  things  may  stand  you  in  handsomely  for  a 
while;  but  they  ai  n't  apt  to  have  stay  in'  powah. 
You  've  got  to  bring  out  something  new,  else  the 
public '11  get  tired,  an'  go  to  the 'stablishment  over 
the  way.  Aftah  the  wah,  I  says  to  myself:  '  Kunnel, 
you  've  lost  your  niggahs  and  you  've  lost  yonr  cause; 
you  've  got  to  draw  it  strong,  and  be  quick  about  it." 

Until  just  before  the  war,  the  "  Kunnel "  had  lived 
in  a  Northern  State  and  never  in  all  his  life  owned  a 
slave.  His  "niggahs,"  therefore,  were  the  equivalent 
of  those  castles  in  Spain  which  people  have  once 
owned  and  lost,  and  the  severest  labor  to  which  those 
imaginary  serfs  ever  had  been  put  was  in  carrying  out 
his  scheme  for  advertising  himself. 

"  Politics  was  rather  hot,"  continued  the  "  Kunnel," 
"  so  I  jumped  in  and  published  the  first  numbah  of  the 


BUNKERY,  THE  STATESMAN.  165 

'  Bazook  Banner.'  I  had  n't  many  subscribers  to  start 
•with;  but  I  sent  a  copy  to  all  the  principal  Nawthun 
papahs,  and  they  printed  my  hurrah  over  the  '  Capital 
Captured  by  the  Southun  brigadiers.'  That  was  a 
ripper!  I  hud  from  it  in  three  weeks,  be  gahd,  sah. 
Hundreds  of  letters  askin'  for  specimens,  an'  the  papahs 
copyin'  it  right  and  left.  Then  I  gave  them  a  start- 
ler that  made  'em  feel  like  the  Czar  of  Russia  a-goin: 
tu  his  dinner.  'Twas  that  red  hot  article,  proposing 
to  elect  Jeff  Davis  President.  Then  came  the 
screecher  that  said  Andersonville  was  too  comf  table 
for  the  hell-hounds  sent  thah;  and  I  mixed  them  all 
up  judiciously  with  advice  to  hang  the  bondholders 
and  burn  the  bonds.  At  last,  when  the  gem,  the  little 
beauty,  appeared — that  sweet  little  poem  which  called 
for  the  killing  of  Grant  and  a  statchah  to  Wilkes 
Booth,  an'  I  had  stirred  up  a  Congressman  on  the  nV 
of  Congress  to  give  me  a  first-class  notice  with  a  dis- 
play head,  and  lots  o'  editahs  subscribin'  so  as  to  get 
it  regulah  an'  copy  it  to  stir  up  the  Nawtlmn  folks 
with; — I  had  to  buy  a  new  press  be  gahd!  and  keep  it 
runnin'  night  an'  day.  I  stood  apowah  of  abuse  from 
everybody;  sometimes  I  was  a  lunatic,  sometimes  an 
idiot;  but  I  soaked  away  the  greenbacks  all  the  same, 
for  I  knew  it  would  n't  last.  I  sold  out  to  a  greeny, 
and  it  wound  him  up  in  about  three  months.  I  tried 
lecturin',  but  folks  didn't  seem  to  come  where  I  was, 
and  I  give  it  up;  an'  now  I'm  goin'  to  have  the  good 
of  it.  So  name  your  poison ;  for  its  a  long  time  'tween 
drinks  on  this  infunnal  old  steamer." 

This  intimacy  blossomed  into  a  friendship  that  had 


1 66  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

its  roots  in  a  common  fondness  for  poker,  and  resulted 
in  the  "colonel's"  taking  a  frequent  Land  with  Bun- 
kery, who  thought  of  introducing  the  American  game 
into  the  Paris  salons  and  publishing  a  little  treatise 
upon  it  for  the  benefit  of  a  sister  Republic  not  yet  in 
possession  of  all  the  institutions  of  a  free  government. 

The  "  colonel "  was  endowed  with  a  spasmodic,  sur- 
prising, but  very  agreeable,  if  not  a  very  useful  be- 
nevolence. Hearing  the  third  officer  of  the  ship  com- 
plain of  his  poor  pay,  he  ripped  open  a  waist  belt  and 
put  ten  gold  eagles  into  the  hand  of  the  astonished 
and  delighted  young  man.  In  Paris,  where  his  career 
resembled  a  mountain  brook,  one  hour  a  torrent,  the 
next,  a  boulder-paved  gully,  he  gave  $500  to  a  fel- 
low-countryman, whose  relations  with  his  landlord  and 
shop-keepers  had  assumed  so  confidential  a  form  that 
he  was  in  fear  of  their  forcibly  detaining  him  for  an 
indefinite  period.  At  this  rate  the  profits  which  the 
"colonel "had  derived  from  his  volcanic  treatment 
of  public  questions,  and  which,  in  spite  of  his  boast- 
fulness,  were  only  trifling,  melted  rapidly  away,  and 
he  came  home  with  Mr.  Bunkery,  considerably  in  debt, 
it  was  said,  to  that  gentleman,  for  borrowed  money, 
as  well  as  for  what,  in  consequence  of  the  latter's  supe- 
rior accomplishments  in  the  national  game,  he  had 
managed  to  owe  him.  He  was  picking  up  a  precarious 
living  at  Injannerville  and  encountered  Bunkery  as 
above  described. 

"  I  really  must  ask  you  to  settle  that  little  affair," 
said  Bunkery;  "it's  been  running  a  long  time  now." 

"Settle  it!  would  n't  I  like  to  settle  it.     Oil  my 


BUNKERY,  THE  STATESMAN.  167 

honah,  as  a  gentleman,  sah;  but  it  takes  money  to 
settle  things  of  that  sort." 

"  Yes,"  said  Bunkery,  "  I  know  it  does,  or  at  least 
I  've  always  supposed  it  did.  I  'm  glad  you  think  so 
too." 

"  Well,  I  have  n't  got  the  money." 

And  the  colonel  expectorated  in  an  emphatic  and 
final  fashion,  as  if  the  discussion  were  thereby  closed. 

"However,"  he  went  on  after  a  short  pause,  "if  you 
can  put  me  in  the  way  of  getting  anything,  I  '11  agree 
to  a  percentage  off,  every  week  or  month." 

Bunker  reflected  a  moment  and  then  said:  "Come 
with  me! " 

Crossing  the  area,  they  turned  into  a  dark  hall-way 
at  one  end  of  which  a  small  sign  protruded  from  the 
lintel  of  a  door,  on  which  one  read  in  the  dim  light: 
"U.  S.  Pension  Agency."  Bunkery,  entering  and  re- 
marking to  the  agent,  "I  would  like  to  do  a  little 
writing,"  the  materials  were  forthcoming  at  once. 

At  the  official's  desk  leaned,  in  the  weak  attitude  of 
an  invalid,  a  pale,  crippled  man,  the  cuff  of  whose  left 
sleeve,  void  of  an  arm,  was  pinned  to  the  breast  of  his 
coat.  "With  his  remaining  hand  he  was  tugging  at 
some  papers  from  an  inside  pocket. 

Bunkery's  comrade  advanced  so  brusquely  to  the 
desk,  as  almost  to  upset  the  ill-balanced  pensioner. 

"Hullo,"  said  the  disabled  man,  hobbling  about  to 
recover  his  balance,  "  never  knew  the  world  to  be  so 
crowded  before.  There  seems  to  be  one  too  many  of 
us." 

"  Are  those  remarks  addressed  to  me,"  said  "  Col- 
onel "  Aiken. 


168  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"  Well,  I  'd  only  got  so  far  as  to  subscribe  my  name 
to  'em ;  I  '11  address  'em  to  you  now." 

"  Do  you  know  who  I  am,  sah? "  roared  the  "  colo- 
nel." "  I  'm  Jefferson  Aiken,  fommahly  Kunnel 
of  the  Texas  Tigahs,  and  a  Southun  gentleman,  be 
gahd,  sah?" 

"  O,  no,  you  can't  fool  me  in  that  way,"  said  the 
pensioner,  "  I  've  seen  the  real  article  and  you  're  bo- 
gus. You  must  show  your  certificate  before  I  '11  take 
you  for  one." 

"  Colonel "  Aiken,  thrusting  his  hand  into  his 
pocket,  produced  his  certificate  and  pointed  it  at  the 
pensioners  head. 

"  Thah  's  my  papahs,  blank  your  eyes,"  he  said, 
cocking  his  weapon.  "  I  '11  put  my  certificate  on 
your  blanked  hide,  so  plain  you  '11  have  no  call  to  ask 
for  it  again.6' 

"  Stop  that!  "  cried  Bunkery  advancing.  "  We 
don't  do  business  on  that  plan." 

''  He 's  a  blanked  lying  scoundrel,"  said  the  "  colo- 
nel," again  raising  his  weapon,  which  Bunkery  caught 
and  took  from  him.  "  If  I  had  you  down  to  Bazook, 
I  'd  teach  you  to  talk  to  a  gentleman,  be  gahd!  " 

But  the  alleged  colonel  and  ex-editor  of  the  "  Bazook 
Banner"  postponed  his  lesson  to  a  more  convenient 
season;  for  the  invalid  soldier,  balancing  himself  upon 
his  one  stout  leg,  with  a  swift  movement  of  his  remain- 
ing arm,  brought,  like  a  battle  mace,  his  heavy  brass- 
tipped  cane  down  upon  the  "colonel's "  head,  and 
felled  him  to  the  ground. 

"  I  '11  teach  you  the  war  is  not  over  yet  with  such  a 


BUNKERY,  THE  STATESMAN.  169 

blackguard;"  lie  said,  raising  his  weapon  to  strike 
again,  if  necessary.  "  I  do  n't  believe  you  were  ever 
in  the  war  at  all.  For  those  who  stood  up  like  men, 
and  fought  like  men,  and  act  like  men  now,  I  say  al- 
ways here 's  a  friendly  hand,  but  I  '11  stand  nothing 
from  these  noisy,  bomb-proof,  after-claps  that  thunder 
away  years  after  the  lightning  's  struck.  There 's 
too  many  of  'em  on  both  sides.  Pd  try  'em  by  drum- 
head court-martial  every  time,  and  shoot  them  on  the 
spot, — and  the  right  spot,  too,"  he  added,  as  Aiken 
rubbed  his  head. 

The  latter  stunned  alike  by  the  blow  and  this  sud- 
den resentment,  arose  and,  brushing  the  dust  from 
his  breeches,  looked  bewildered!}"  around.  He  felt 
in  vain  for  his  pistol.  Then  he  glanced  at  the 
pen  and  ink-stand  on  the  pension-agent's  table,  as 
much  as  to  say:  "I  '11  run  him  down  with  a  column  of 
hard  names  in  the  '  Bazook  Banner,'  "  but  having  al- 
ready been  furled  several  months,  the  u  Banner  "  was 
no  longer  waved. 

So  he  suffered  himself  to  be  led  off  by  Bunkery, 
who  roared  at  him  as  he  went: 

"  Stop  it!  Stop  it  right  here!  It 's  gone  far  enough. 
Don't  you  understand,  you  donkey,"  he  continued  as 
lie  marched  him  along,  "  that  you  're  several  degrees 
away  from  where  you  used  to  be.  I  '11  have  to  buy  you 
a  map  and  show  you  the  latitude  of  Injannerville. 
What  did  you  want  to  lie  for,  and  pretend  you  were  a 
'  colonel,'  when  you  know  you  never  rose  higher  than 
a  sutler.  I  don  't  see  the  use  in  your  making  yourself 
unnecessarily  odious.  Besides,  you  came  from  here 


170  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

originally,  and  there  's  no  use  in  your  pretending  to  be 
a  genuine  Southerner.  You  overdo  it,  let  me  tell 
you." 

"  Advertizin'  's  the  life  of  trade.  Keep  yourself  be- 
fore the  public!  Sure 's  you  sink,  you 're  gone,"  said 
the  "  colonel." 

"  I  do  n't  propose  having  you  do  it  at  my  ex- 
pense." 

"It '11  be  in  the  next  edition  of  the  papah,  you  '11 
see,"  replied  the  "colonel"; — "just  in  time  for  the 
openin'  of  my  cigar  and  sample  store,  to-morrow — if 
I  open  it.  When  it  gets  a  little  stale,  sue  the  papah 
for  libel.  That  '11  give  me  another  lift." 

"With  this  and  other  ennobling  conversation,  Bunk- 
cry  and  the  "  colonel,"  interrupted  by  a  call  at  one  or 
two  retired  and  fashionable  bar-rooms,  had  made  the 
promenade  of  several  blocks  and  come  back  again  to 
the  vicinity  of  the  Government  building. 

.  At  this  point  a  lurch  of  the  "  colonel "  nearly  upset 
a  boy  in  the  act  of  shouting. 

"  Evening  paper!     All  about  the " 

But  the  lad,  recoiling  from  the  shock  of  the  collision, 
did  not  finish  his  proclamation. 

"D it!     Everybody's   in   my  way,"   said  the 

"colonel,"  clinging  to  Bunkery  and  diving  for  the 
boy  whom  he  tried  to  set  on  end  again  "  II  'yar  give 
us  a  papah!  Thah  git  yer  feet  under  yer,  ye  young 
possum." 

The  boy  still  holding  the  paper,  was  waiting  for  his 
pay;  but  the  "  colonel "  though  fumbling  in  his  numer- 
ous pockets  for  it,  brought  nothing  up. 


BUNKERY,  THE  STATESMAN.  171 

"Thahwasa  nickle  thah,"  he  soliloquized,  while 
Bunkerj  walked  on.  "  What 's  this, now?  No,  that 's 
my  cloak-room  check.  Hullo,  thah's  a  Y!" 

"  Soon 's  you  ken,  mister,"  urged  the  boy.  "  Ther  's 
my  pop  a-waitin'  for  me." 

"Whah's  yer  pop?" 

The  boy  pointed  to  the  crippled  man,  Aiken's  recent 
antagonist,  coming  out  of  the  pension  building. 

"  Is  that  yer  pop,  you  whelp  ?  Then  take  that ;  take 
that,  you  unlicked  cub!"  cried  the  "colonel,"  empha- 
sizing his  remarks  with  a  thrust  of  his  fist,  "  and  tell 
your  dad  thah's  Colonel  Aiken's  apologies." 

Alarmed  at  his  tone  and  words,  Bunkery  wheeled 
around  to  interfere  in  this  second  difficulty  of  his  pro- 
tege's, exclaiming, 

"Stop  it,  you  idiot!" 

But  to  his  astonishment,  instead  of  beating  the  boy, 
Aiken  was  thrusting  the  five  dollar  note  into  the  youth's 
hand;  then,  clutching  the  newspaper,  he  resumed  his 
march  down  the  street,  muttering — "  can 't  apol'gize 
— don't  know  how;  nevah  did  it  sah,  on  the  honah  of  a 
gentleman,  nevah  did  it  sah!  Thah  't  is  now:  third 
edition.  'A  Texas  Gunnel  gets  more  than  he  asks  for.' 
M-m-m.  Further  particulars  in  our  next  edition." 

"  Thought  you  had  n't  any  money,"  growled  Bunk- 
ery. "I  make  it  a  rule  not  to  be  generous  until  after 
I  have  paid  my  debts." 

"Every  man  does  what  he  kin  do  the  easiest,"  re- 
torted the  Colonel. 

Bunkery  resented  the  Colonel's  reference  to  his 
tight-fistedness,  but  not  choosing  at  this  time  to  quar- 
rel with  him,  asked: 


172  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"  Are  you  ready  to  go  to  Washington?" 

"To  Washington! "  exclaimed  the  other,  turning 
his 'pockets  inside  out.  "I'd  look  pretty  going  to 
"Washington.  I  'd  have  to  ride  on  the  trucks  or  the 
rear  platform.  I  could  n't  get  as  fa's  the  next  station." 

"  A  h — 1  of  a  philanthropist  you  are,"  said  Bunk- 
ery,  "I  s'pose  I  '11  have  to  pay  your  fare;  I  have  n't 
got  a  pass  for  myself  yet";  and,  after  making  an  ap- 
pointment with  the  "colonel,"  the  Congressman  sought 
the  collector  of  customs. 

"Look  here,  Bunkery!"  was  the  greeting  he  re- 
ceived from  a  bluff  and  portly  person  with  "battle- 
door"  side- whiskers,  and  otherwise  conspicuous  for 
his  perennial  white  neck- tie,  and  for  a  horse-shoe 
bosom-pin  with  whip  rampant,  denoting  that,  in  ad- 
dition to  his  being  collector  of  customs,  he  was  Presi- 
dent of  the  Injanner  Trotting  Association.  "Look  here, 
Bunkery,  you  must  do  something  for  Cranage.  He  's 
got  a  cracked  hoof  and  can  't  get  'round  the  track  as  he 
used  to.  First  you  knew  he'll  be  working  for  Byles." 

"  I  've  done  my  best,"  replied  Bunkery  ;  "  but  I 
can't  make  a  place  for  him.  Brewster's  growing 
worse  every  day;  acts  once  in  a  while  like  he  were 
going  to  be  pious  and  run  the  Government  on  the 
Sunday  School  plan." 

"  Don't  know  how  that  is,"  said  the  collector;  "but 
the  situation 's  making  Cranage  desperate.  He 's  a 
sister  or  niece  or  something  he  wants  a  place  for,  too; 
and  Byles  is  fairly  smothering  him  with  promises." 

"  Well,  I  can't  command  a  single  place  for  her  just 
now.  I  've  been  going  for  one  these  six  months — a 


JBUNKERY,  THE  STATESMAN.  173 

Mrs.  Cleland's  in  it,  but  she's  a  protege  of  the  Brew- 
ster  family,  and  was  one  of  the  few  of  the  old  set 
left  over.  I  '11  do  my  best,  but  it 's  like  trying  to  find 
room  for  an  extra  hole  in  a  musquito-net." 

There  was  every  reason  for  Bunkery's  doing  his 
best;  because  Byles,  a  famous  tobacconist,  had  deci- 
ded that  he  was  as  much  entitled  to  the  seat  in 
the  United  States  Senate  Bunkery  longed  for,  as 
that  eminent  statesman  himself;  and  Cranage,  whose 
u  doleful  dumps  "  had  just  been  so  feelingly  portrayed, 
enjoyed  a  large  acquaintance,  an  organizing  ability, 
and  a  personal  influence  among  the  fellow  members  of 
his  religious  sect,  which  were  absolutely  invaluable  to 
ambitious  candidates.  Bunkery  had,  as  he  admitted, 
been  unable  to  procure  a  position  for  him,  and,  on 
learning  that  Byles  was  tampering  with  him,  felt  a  no 
common  anxiety  about  it. 

The  door  soon  after  opened,  admitting  a  man  with 
stooping  shoulders  and  long  arms,  arrayed  in  semi- 
clerical  costume,  with  a  loose,  black  silk  neck-tie  about 
his  throat,  a  long-bodied  vest,  and  a  general  air  of 
finding  the  burden  of  life  a  little  heavier  than  he 
wanted  to  carry. 

"  Hah!  Cranage,"  said  Bunkery;  "I've  been  look- 
ing for  you." 

"  I  'm  glad  you  were  lucky  enough  to  find  me,"  said 
Cranage,  taking  off  his  hat  and  rubbing  his  hand  back 
and  forth  over  his  thin  hair;  "  for  I  was  looking  for 
you,  and  it 's  allers  my  luck  not  to  get  what  I  'in  look- 
ing for." 

"  I  've  been  thinking  about  you,"  said  Bunkery. 


174:  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"  Same  here;  I've  been  thinking  how  much  I  've 
done  for  you  and  the  party,  and  how  little  you  and  the 
party  have  done  for  me.  Spent  money  like  water,  let 
my  business  go  all  to  pieces — two  weeks  at  a  time  in 
a  hoss  an'  buggy  all  over  the  deestrick.  talking  up  the 
doubtful  fellers.  I  saw  more  'n  three  hundred  on  'em, 
an'  your  majority  was  only  280.  A  hundred  dollars 
at  a  clip  that  night,  for  the  band  and  torch-lights  to 
give  you  a  reception,  an'  next  week  at  Richport  the 
same — right  out  o'  my  balance  at  the  bank,  and  a  note 
protested  the  nex'  day." 

"  O,  well  it 's  all  right,"  said  Bunkery,  "  I've  about 
fixed  it  now.  I  '11  have  the  papers  sent  you  soon  as  I 
get  down  there.  I  hear  Byles  is  talking  up  his 
aifairs  to  you.  Better  stick  to  old  friends  ;  Byles 
can 't  do  anything  for  you." 

"  Well,  I  dunno.  He  says  he's  receiving  hundreds 
of  letters  from  all  parts  of  the  State  urging  him  to  be 
a  candidate." 

"  He 's  always  receiving  hundreds  of  letters  from  all 
parts  of  the  State,"  said  Bunkery.  "  He  thinks  a  man 
writing  him  from  some  cross-roads  represents  the 
whole  community.  That 's  flattering  but  't  ain't  true, 
and  he'll  be  dreadfully  disappointed.  I  shan't,  be- 
cause I  'm  willing  to  take  the  chances,  and  ain't  so 
cock-sure  as  he  is.  You  stick  by  your  old  friends, 
Cranage,  and  you  '11  be  all  right." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Cranage;  "  then  there's  my  step- 
darter." 

"O  yes,"  said  Bunkery,  quickly,  "I  've  got  a  splen- 
did place  picked  out  for  her.  There's  a  widow 


BUNKERY,  THE  STATESMAN.  175 

woman  in  it  now,  but  it '11  be  ready  for  her  soon's 
your's  is." 

And  Cranage's  loj^alty  to  Bunkery  having  been  in- 
spirited and  reinforced,  the  company  went  its  several 
ways.  Before  reaching  home,  Bunkery,  instead  of 
patronizing  a  rival  establishment  whose  wooden  Indi- 
an was  far  bigger  and  handsomer,  magnanimously 
stopped  and  bought  a  week's  supply  of  Byles's  "  Hon- 
ey-dew fine-cut,"  which  at  his  rate  of  consumption 
was  no  mean  token  of  a  high-minded  temper. 


176  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER    XYIII. 

ENLIGHTENING  THE  PUBLIC. 

SUPPER  was  finished,  and  dusk  was  overshadowing 
tne  landscape,  as  Bunkery,  sitting  in  his  house  and 
preparing  a  speech  for  the  evening,  saw  some  one 
hitching  a  cream-colored  horse  in  front.  Shortly  af- 
ter, the  servant  announced  "  Mrs.  liackett." 

"  Evenin',  Mr.  Bunkery,"  said  she  with  the  bold- 
ness, or  rather  with  the  matter-of-fact  independence, 
of  a  woman  accustomed  to  looking  after  her  own  af- 
fairs. 

Eaismg  his  eyes,  he  saw  a  gaunt,  upright  figure, 
sallow  of  complexion,  past  middle  life,  with  bony  but 
executive  hands,  and  a  face  pinched  by  her  struggles  to 
keep  out  of  poverty  rather  than  by  poverty  itself. 

"  P'r'aps  yuh  've  furgotten  me,"  she  continued — • 
"  widder  liackett;  I  live  over  to  Pelham.  I  've  raised 
some  extra  fine  critters  this  las'  two  years.  I  wuz 
talkin'  to  lanthy — lanthy  's  my  darter,  yuh  know,  by 
Ashael  Green,  my  fust  husband;  my  second  he  'd  chil- 
dern  by  his  fust  wife" 

"  Yes,  yes,  madam,  but  my  time  is  precious " 

"Well,  lanthy  an'  I  we  lied  awake  las'  week,  talk- 
in'  an '  thinkin',  an'  thinkin'  an'  talkin' " 


EXLIGHTESIXG  THE  PUBLIC.  177 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  can 't  stay  to  hear  any  more,  Mad- 
am," said  Mr.  Bunkery. 

"  I  was  jest  a  comin'  to  it,  ef  yuh  wa'n't  in  sech  a 
fret.  She  woke  me  right  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
with  an  awful  dig  in  my  ribs,  an'  I  sez, '  Ian  thy  Green,' 
sez  I,  '  hev  you  got  the  nightmare,  or  what  is  it,  wa- 
kin'  me  with  snch  a  poke  as  that?'  an'  she  sez,  'I  've 
got  it,  mah.'  '  Then  I  wish  you  'd  keep  it  to  your- 
self,' sez  I.  'Ask  Mr.  Bunkery,'  sez  she.  'Twas  as 
if  an  angel  from  heaven  hed  up  and  spoke;  an'  I  sez, 

'  I  '11 ' " 

•   "But,  Madam " 

"  An'  so  arter  chores,"  continued  Mrs.  Hackett,  un- 
interruptedly, "  I  sez  to  lanthy,  '  had  Joshua  or  Gale 
better  go?'  an'  she  sez,  'Josh  ;  Gale  is  all  beat  out.' 
Caleb  's  the  oldest,  but  we  allers  call  him  '  Cale,'  for 
short." 

Bunkery  had  risen ;  but  at  this  hint  of  the  second 
husband's  sons  by  the  first  wife — and  one  of  them 
with  her — he  was  prudent  enough,  for  the  sake  of 
these  two  voters,  to  hear  her  through.  So  he  sat  him- 
self down  to  discover,  if  possible,  the  errand  of  this 
mother  in  Israel,  with  her  Joshua  and  Caleb. 

"  When  you  want  a  thing,"  she  continued,  "  the 
way 's  ter  cut  right  acrost  lots  an'  ast  for  it,  an'  not 
be  sloshin'  about  a  ten  acre  lot  for  what  grows  in  one 
corner  on't."* 

"  Anything  I  can  do  for  you  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Bunk- 
ery, "  pension  money,  is  it  ?  or  a  bill  to  collect  ? "  . 

u  Uhn,  uhn  ! "  a  half-guttural,  half-nasal  sound  mean- 
ing "no;"  "I  'ten' to  all  them  things  myself.  But 
12 


178  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

Ian  thy,  she 's  bin  kinder  shet  up  at  home  all  her  life, 
an'  she  wants  to  see  the  world.  She  do  n't  hev  a  chance 
at  any  fellers  she'll  look  at;  not  even  bnggy-ridin'  ; 
an'  so  I  sez:  '  Mr.  Burikery  he  '11  git  you  an  offis  down 
to  "Wash  'n  'ton.'  She  wants  ter  learn  ter  sing,  an' 
p'r'aps  play  the  pianny,  an'  we  hain't  got  the  money. 
You  put  her  in  an  offis  with  plenty  o7  pay  an'  little  to 
do,  an' she '11  give  her  v'ice  a  lift  that '11  cl'ar  a  ten- 
rail  fence." 

"Has  she  a  good  voice?"  asked  Mr.  Bunkery,  cool- 
ing his  impatient  profanity  by  thinking  of  the  old 
woman's  two  voters. 

"TJhm,  uhm!"  she  replied,  a  variation,  with  closed 
lips,  of  the  negative  grunt,  above  referred  to,  and 
meaning  "yes."  "Good  v'ice!  She  oughter  hev.  Why, 
her  gran'mother — she  favors  her  gran'mother — when 
she  was  a  gal,  could  call  the  cows  from  pastur'  twq 
mile  off.  What  more  could  you  ast  of  a  v  'ice  than 
that?" 

"Nothing,  madame!  I  wo uldn 't  think  of  asking 
anything  more." 

"Jerushy!"  cried  Mrs.  Hackett,  looking  out  of  the 
window;  "ef  tharn't  Josh,  a-gnawin' the  hide  right 
off  your  shade  trees.  Well,  the  harm 's  all  done  now, 
that's  one  comfut." 

"The  devil  take  the  woman!"  thought  Mr.  Bun- 
kery; "a  whole  quarter  of  an  hour  wasted  for  the  votes 
of  a  pair  of  horses ! "  He  was  rising  again  when  her 
next  remark  arrested  him. 

"  Hain  't  my  husband  said  nothin'  to  you  about  this  ? 
He  was  to.  But  you  can 't  trust  one  on  'em.  They 


ENLIGHTENING  THE  PUBLIC.  179 

get  to  talkin'  about  sutlrin'  else,  an'  fust  thing  yuh 
know,  they  're  all  in  a  ravel.  Thar 's  my  husband — 
I've  known  him  this  fifteen  year — used  to  know  his 
fust  wife;  he's  the  wust  hand  to  ravel,  Mr.  Bunkery, 
yuh  ever  see.  No  matter  where  you  take  hold  on  him, 
he'll  ravel  all  out;  an'' so  I  sez  to  myself,  even  ef  he 
don  't  forgit  it,  he  won 't  git  it  straight." 

"Your  husband!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Bunkery,  after 
several  attempts  to  stop  her,  ""I  thought  you  was  a 
widow — widow  Hackett !" 

His  words  acted  like  an  electric  battery.  She  threw 
her  hands  above  her  head,  then  crossed  them  on  her 
breast,  and  rocked  in  convulsions  back  and  forth  upon 
her  chair.  Bunkery  began  inwardly  to  curse  and  to 
swear,  lest  he  had  an  epileptic  or  hysterical  woman  on 
his  hands.  He  was  on  the  point  of  calling  his  wife, 
when  his  visitor  startled  him  again  with  screams  of 
laughter. 

"Well!  well!  well!  Ha!  ha!  ha!  He!  he!  he!  I 
never  see  the  beat  on  't.  I  'd  forgot  all  about  it.  Yuh 
see  I  was  j'ined  to  my  third,  three  days  ago,  an'  I  hed 
forgotten  all  about  it,  that  is,  about  my  name;  I'm 
so  used  to  the  old  one.  I  ain  't  Widder  Hackett  any 
longer.  I  'm  Mrs.  Cranage.  O,  I  'm  powerful  weak 
with  the  laughin'." 

"Mrs.  Cranage!  Did  Cranage  marry  you?"  ex- 
claimed Bunkery. 

"  Did  Cranage  marry  me?"  echoed  the  late  relict 
of  the  late  Hackett,  the  laugh  all  out  of  her  now. 
"  Yuh  bet  your  life  he  married  me  when  he  said  he 
would.  An'  afore  I  said  yes,  he  promised  to  git  this 
thing  for  Ian  thy,  too." 


180  A  FAMOUS 'VICTORY. 

"  0,  yes,  he  spoke  to  me  about  it,"  said  Mr.  Bunk- 
erj,  "  and  I  satisfied  him  on  that  point." 

"  Well,  I  want  to  be  satisfied  on  that  point,"  said 
Mrs.  Cranage.  "  Cranage  can  do  what  he  likes  with 
the  Methodis'  vote,  and  I  and  lanthy  can  do  what  we 
likes  with  Cranage." 

"O,  certainly,  Mrs.  Cranage,"  said  Bunkery,  anx- 
ious to  make  amends  for  his  mistake.  "  I  have  picked 
out  the  place  for  your  daughter.  Good  salary,  short 
hours.  She  '11  hear  from  it  now  in  a  very  little 
while." 

"Well,  we  must,  or  Cranage  will  quit;  I  've  made 
up  my  mind  on  that  point;  and  when  I  do  that,  I  '11 
be  durned  if  thar  's  much  of  a  show  for  anybodyelse's 
mind,  't  any  rate  if  he 's  married  to  me,  and  Cran- 
age will  tell  you  so." 

"  Byles  has  no  chance,  no  chance  at  all.  He  can  't 
do  anything  for  you,"  said  Mr.  Bunkery.  "  Cranage 
wants  to  stick  by  old  friends,  let  me  tell  you.  Had  n't 
you  better  stop  in  town  and  see  the  procession?"  con- 
tinued Bunkery,  at  the  same  time  opening  the  door. 
"It  will  be  a  very  fine  one — bands,  torch-lights  and 
speeches.  I  'm  going  to  make  a  speech  myself.  There 's 
the  marching,  too;  though  I'm  not  so  much  im- 
pressed with  it  as  I  was  when  I  was  younger.  Still, 
it 's  necessary  in  this  country,  in  order  to  set  forth 
political  principulls  properly." 

"  That's  a  good  deal  my  fix,"  replied  Mrs.  Cranage. 

"  I  do  n't  run  to  hear  a  brass  band  as  I  did  once," 
continued  Bunkery,  in  a  confidential  way. 

"  I  do  n't  go  with  you  there,  Mr.  Bunkery,"  replied 


ENLIGHTENING  THE  PUBLIC.  181 

Mrs.  Cranage.  "  I  must  say  a  good  team  o'  wind  in- 
struments stirs  me  up  pretty  considerable.  But  I 
do  n't  git  to  go  very  often." 

"  Then  you  'd  better  stop  and  hear  them." 

"  What  time  does  the  meetin'  take  up? "  she  inquired. 

"At  eight  o'clock; — in  about  half  an  hour,"  was 
the  answer. 

Leaving  the  house,  the  woman  unhitched  Joshua 
who,  judging  from  his  rich  cream  color,  had,  like  his 
namesake,  just  come  from  a  land  overflowing  with 
milk  and  honey,  and  drove  slowly  down  the  street, 
Joshua  pricking  up  his  yellow  ears  at  the  sound  of 
the  music.  As  the  darkness  deepened,  the  red  glare 
reflected  on  the  clouds,  grew"  brighter,  and  suddenly, 
at  the  head  of  the  sloping  street,  a  river  of  fire,  like  a 
volcanic  eruption,  appeared,  rolling  and  streaming 
down  the  road. 

"How  purty  it  is!"  she  said.  "I  wish  Ian  thy 
could  see  it.  It 's  purtier  'n  the  Fourth  o'  July." 

She  was  nearing  the  park  where  the  bands  were 
playing,  and  the  crowds  were  already  assembling  to 
look  at  the  procession  and  hear  the  music  and  speeches. 
Joshua  began  dancing  and  edging  toward  the  side- 
walk, while  his  mistress  cried  "Whoa!"  and  tugged 
and  jerked,  until  she  would  have  split  his  mouth  up 
to  his  ears,  had  it  not  been  toughened  by  years  of 
feminine  government  in  the  wagon  behind.  As  the 
procession  occupied  the  width  of  the  road,  and  pre- 
vented her  further  progress  in  that  direction,  she  turned 
into  a  side  street,  hitched  her  horse  and  decided,  as  she 
said,  "  to  see  this  thing  out." 


182  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

She  joined  the  crowd  on  the  sidewalks,  gazing  with 
open  mouth  at  the  transparencies,  the  torch-lights  and 
the  mottoes.  Not  understanding  exactly  what  they 
meant,  she  thought  them  something  wonderful. 

"Down  with  the  banker's  money!" 

"  Down  with  the  bloodsuckers  of  society !  " 

"The  people's  dollar  for  all  the  people!  " 

"  Bonfires  for  the  bondholder!  " 

"A  free  ballot  box!" 

There  were  caricatures,  too,  designed  and  executed 
by  local  artists  with  more  prejudice  than  talent. 
The  procession  countermarched  along  the  wide  street 
forming  a  serpentine  train  of  fire  which  swept  in 
gleaming  circles  around  Mr.  Bunkery  on  the  stand. 
From  political  opponents  on  the  side- walks  came  cries 
of  derision,  answered  by  cheers  from  the  procession. 
A  stone  or  two  thrown  at  a  transparency  was  a  more 
serious  argument  than  any  previously  advanced,  and 
provoked  a  logical  rejoinder  from  a  squad  of  torch- 
bearers  that  charged  with  their  burning  torches  upon 
the  gronp  nearest  the  source  of  the  projectile,  severely 
scorching  the  faces  and  singeing  the  hair  and  beards 
of  the  spectators,  who,  however  guilty  of  enjoying  the 
"  hard  hit "  at  the  procession,  were  personally  inno- 
cent of  the  offense.  But  in  carrying  out  broad  and 
general  political  principles,  it  is  obviously  impossible 
to  exercise  nice  discriminations  in  such  matters,  and 
individual  hardship  must  console  itself  with  its  self- 
sacrifice  to  the  public  good. 

The  pageant  was  a  long  one,  numbering  by  "  actual 
count"  as  Bun  ke  ry  's  ."  Ledger  "  announced  next 


ENLIGHTENING  THE  PUBLIC.  183 

morning,  "  197  more  than  the  ridiculous  caricature  of 
a  procession  gotten  up  by  our  opponents  last  week,  and 
which  consisted  chiefly  of  small  boys  who  ought  to 
have  been  in  bed  hours  before."  This  arithmetical 
superiority  was  considered  as  not  only  decisive  of  the 
result  of  the  vote-polling  election  day,  but  "  an  ample 
vindication,  at  his  home  where  he  is  known  and  loved, 
of  our  much-slandered  but  estimable  fellow-citizen." 

Never  having  attended  a  political  open  air  meeting 
and  "being  in  for  it,"  as  she  said  to  herself,  Mrs. 
Cranage  crowded  toward  the  speaker  determined  on 
"  getting  her  money's  wuth." 

He  began  by  thanking  them  for  this  unexpected 
honor.  It  was  the  spontaneous  uprising  of  the  masses 
(a  voice,  "you've  paid  for  'em  out  'o  your  own 
pocket"),  who  knew  what  they  wanted  and  the  right 
place  to  come  for  it.  It  was  high  time  to  cure  the 
evils  which  afflicted  the  country.  It  was  said  that  this 
Government  could  not  create  money.  He  was  Yankee 
enough  to  want  to  know  why.  If  there  had  been  peo- 
ple alive  during  chaos,  some  old  fogy  would  have  said, 
you  can't  create  light,  and  the  next  minute  the  poor 
fool  would  have  been  blinded  by  the  dazzle  of  the 
light  that  was  created.  (Loud  applause).  It  made 
him  boil  over  with  patriotic  rage  when  he  heard  a  man 
say,  the  Government  of  the  United  States,  a  govern- 
ment of  fifty  millions  of  people,  couldn  't  create  money, 
just  such  money,  and  just  as  much  or  little  money  as 
was  wanted.  A  government  that  had  crushed  the 
greatest  rebellion  in  the  world,  and  which  had  put  a 
million  of  men  under  arms — not  create  money!  It 


184  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

was  a  wild  absurdity  and  a  libel  upon  a  free  people. 
Every  patriot  ought  to  resent  it.  They  point  us  to 
the  experience  of  Europe,  and  to  the  experience  of 
China.  But  this  country  was  not  Europe,  thank  God ! 
(Loud  and  uproarous  applause)  and  the  Chinese  don 't 
rule  us — not  yet  anyhow.  What  have  we  got  to  do 
with  abroad?  (Cheers  'and  yells  of  delight.) 

"  They  used  to  say  in  Europe  and  they  say  so  now, 
that  a  country  can't  be  governed  without  a  king. 
Well,  we've  shown  them  that  a  country  can.  (Ap- 
plause.) They  said  gold  is  king  and  silver  his  prime 
minister.  Well,  silver  is  king  now,  and  we  may  de- 
pose even  him  yet.  There  was  once  a  set  of  folks 
that  said  'cotton  is  king.'  Where  are  they  now? 
(a  voice — "  in  Congress  " — laughter.)  The  fact  is,  the 
people  is  king  in  this  country,  an  absolute  monarch,  a 
king.that  can  do  no  wrong  (applause),"and  it  can  make 
money  out  of  nothing,  or  next  to  nothing.  Laws  good 
for  other  countries  don 't  apply  here.  (Loud  applause.) 
We  don't  obey  laws  that  the  despots  make  for  the 
crushed  masses  in  Europe." 

(A  voice — "  Can  you  make  water  run  up  hill  in  this 
country?"  Cries  of  "Put  him  out!"  "Kill  him!" 
"He's  a  bloated  aristocrat.") 

"  No,  don't  put  him  out,"  continued  Bunkery,  "  let 
him  stay  and  learn  something!  He  needs  to.  He 
does  n't  put  me  out,  I  assure  you.  Can  you  make 
water  run  up  hill  in  this  blood-bought  land  of  liberty  1 
he  asks.  I  say,  yes,  sir.  I  say  our  fathers  did  not 
fight  and  bleed  for  nothing.  I  say  our  husbands, 
brothers,  and  sons  did  not  lav  down  their  lives  in  Synth- 


ENLIGHTENING  THE  PUBLIC.  185 

era  swamps  in  vain.  They  fought  to  make  this  the 
most  powerful  country  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  And 
they  did — powerful  enough  to  make  water  run  up  hill, 
if  necessary — the  grandest  and  most  majestic  govern- 
ment the  sun  ever  shone  on.  And  if  any  man  wants  to 
know  how  this  glorious  government  can  make  water 
run  up  hill,  I  will  tell  him.  I  will  enlighten  his 
darkened  intellect."  (Laughter.  "  Give  it  to  him ! ") 
"  It  can  put  a  steam-engine  and  a  force  pump  at  the 
bottom  of  every  hill  and  pump  it  up." 

(Loud  yells  and  cheers.  Shouts  of  "  Good  for  you !" 
"Give  it  to  the  old  scoundrel!"  The  tumult  of  ap- 
plause lasted  so  long  that  Bunkery  could  only  stand 
and  bow  and  smile  his  acknowledgments.  He  was  un- 
able to  proceed  for  some  little  time.) 

At  this  moment,  some  mischievous  opponent  giv- 
ing a  false  signal,  the  band  burst  out  with  "  Nancy 
Lee."  Bunkery  called  for  silence,  but  his  voice,  ordi- 
narily superior  to  brazen  instruments,  could  not  over- 
come the  blare  of  the  brass  and  the  din  of  the  hide- 
beaten  harmony;  so  that  many  of  his  audience,  in- 
cluding Mrs.  Cranage,  thinking  the  ceremonies  over, 
took  their  departure. 

Ian  thy,  long  of  limb  and  swarthy  of  feature,  was 
waiting  for  her  mother,  and  on  hearing  the  sound  of 
the  wheels  came  out  of  the  house,  asking, 

"  Did  ye  git  him  to  git  it  for  me,  mah? " 

"  Umh,  umh,"  affirmed  her  mother;  "  a  gallus place, 
too;  big  wages,  nuthin'  to  do.  You  kin  hev  all  the 
buggy  ridin'  you  want." 

"  By  gum,  that 's  bully,  mah !  when  kin  I  go  f " 

"  O,  nex'  week,  I  reckon.     He  did  n't  say  exac'ly." 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 
FIGHTING  MONOPOLIES. 

A  FEW  mornings  after,  Bunkery,  with  his  baggage 
packed  for  Washington,  stopped  at  the  entrance  of  the 
railroad  station,  and,  making  his  way  up  the  stairs  in 
one  of  the  towers  that  flanked  the  front  of  the  edifice, 
marched  through  several  sets  of  offices  until  he  arrived 
at  the  room  of  Mr.  Ransom,  superintendent  of  the  I. 
B.  X.  and  Q.  Trunk  Railroad  Co. 

He  found  there  a  grim,  sallow,  slightly-built,  posi- 
tive-looking victim  of  dyspepsia,  who  was  that  morn- 
ing suffering  from  an  unusually  severe  attack  of  his 
daily  tormenter.  He  had  recently  been  appointed  to 
his  position,  and  the  acquaintance  between  himself 
and  Bunkery  was  only  casual. 

"  Mr.  Ransom,  I  believe,"  said  Bunkery. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  am  Thomas  B.  Bunkery." 

"Are  "you?" 

This  did  not  look  very  promising,  but  Bunkery  pro- 
ceeded : 

"  I  am  just  starting  for  "Washington,  and  find  it  con- 
venient to  use  a  pass  or  two." 

"  Very  likely.     Everybody  does.     The  pass  system 


FIGHTING  MONOPOLIES.  187 

has   been  so  badly  abused  on  this  road,  that  when  I 
came  in  I  shut  down  on  it." 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  said  Bunkery,  "  you  must  be 
plagued  to  death  with  people  applying  for  them.  It 's 
a  very  wholesome  reform  indeed.  If  agreeable,  please 
make  mine  out  for  six  months,  as  I  shall  be  coming 
home  once  or  twice  during  the  session.  I  suppose  I 
can  get  it  extended  beyond  that  time,  if  I  wish  it?" 

But  Mr.  Hansom  merely  continued  reading  the  in- 
dorsements on  a  file  of  vouchers,  picking  out  a  few  for 
further  examination. 

u  Business  is  lively,"  suggested  Bunkery. 

"  Very  much  pressed  indeed,"  replied  Eansom. 

"  I  '11  call  again  in  a  few  minutes  if  it  will  be  more 
convenient." 

"Very  much  more,  very  much  more  indeed,"  said  Mr. 
Kan  so  m. 

"  I  shall  take  the  nine-forty-five  train,  east,"  said 
Bunkery,  opening  the  door  to  retire. 

"  Ah,  that  is  a  curious  coincidence,"  replied  the 
other,,"!  am  to  take  the  nine-forty,  west." 

"  Then  I  '11  take  it  now,"  said  Bunkery  coming  back 
and  closing  the  door. 

"  But  it  does  not  go  for  twenty  minutes  yet." 

"  What  does  not  go  for  twenty  minutes?"  asked  Mr. 
Bunkery. 

"  The  nine-forty-five  train." 

"I'll  take  my  pass  now;  you  undoubtedly  under- 
stand, me,"  said  Bunkery  growing  angry;  "this  is 
mere  trifling." 

"  What  en  titles  you  to  a  pass,  if  you  '11  be  so  good?" 
asked  Mr.  Eansom. 


183  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

l<  What  entitles  me?"  echoed  Bunkery,  bewildered 
by  the  man's  insolence. 

"Why  should  we  give  you  a  pass?  What  reason  is 
there  in  it? " 

"What  reason?  Do  you  know  who  I  am,  sir?  Do 
you  know  I  've  been  elected  Mayor  of  Injannerville 
twice; — the  second  time  by  an  increased  majority,  sir? 
That  I  have  been—" 

"  O,  yes,  I  know  that,  and  a sight  more,  I  hope; 

but  I  don 't  know  why  I  should  give  you  a  pass." 

Bunkery  was  almost  speechless,  not  so  much  with 
rage,  though  he  was  very  angry,  but  with  astonishment 
at  this  unexpected  refusal  of  what  he  supposed  would 
be  as  easy  to  get  as  a  light  for  his  cigar. 

"  Not  give  me  a  pass!  "  he  cried,  at  length.  "  Why 
I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  I  've  always  had  a 
pass." 

"  If  you  can  give  me  any  good  reason  for  giving  you 
a  pass,  you  shall  have  it,"  said  superintendent  Hansom. 

"I  want  it,  that's  reason  enough,"  said  Bunkery, 
his  temper,  that  is  his  good  temper,  quite  gone. 

Mr.  Ransom,  taking  his  book  of  blank  passes,  filled 
one  out,  and,  tearing  it  off,  handed  it  to  Bunkery. 

The  latter,  glancing  at  it,  grew  red  until  the  hue  of 
his  face  blended  with  that  of  his  whiskers,  and  the 
tide  flooded  his  countenance  to  the  very  roots  of  his 
hair.  Tearing  the  pass  into  fragments,  he  flung 
them  into  the  superintendent's  face  and,  muttering, 
"the  old  scoundrel,"  stalked  out  of  the  room. 

The  mutilated  paper  read  :  "  Pass  Mr.  Thos.  B. 
Bunkery  from  Injannerville  to  Washington  and  return. 


FIGHTING  MONOPOLIES.  189 

Time,  ninety   days.     Given   on  account  of  charity. 
Ransom,  General  Manager." 

He  made  his  way  down  stairs,  almost  blind  with 
chagrin,  and,  after  paying  for  his  ticket,  took  the 
train,  and  an  oath  that  he  would  sweep  these  grind- 
ing monopolists  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  In  truth, 
he  employed  most  of  his  journey  in  thinking  of  the 
best  method  for  curbing  the  insolence  of  soulless  cor- 
porations. 

The  dyspeptic  railroad  superintendent  had  indeed, 
cither  ignorantly  or  consciously,  insulted  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  party  leaders,  and  to  deny  him  the 
prerogatives  of  his  office  was  a  piece  of  insolence  not 
often  perpetrated  in  the  United  States. 

As  it  has  been  hinted,  Bunkery  had  been  crowned 
with  diplomatic  honors.  He  had  "  claims  "  to  a  high 
position  under  Brewster's  administration,  and  his 
friends  had  undertaken  to  squeeze  him  by  main  force 
into  the  cabinet.  Brewster  resisted,  remarking  to  him- 
self: 

"  The  Lord  knows  I  have  crooked  sticks  enough 
already.  Hydraulic  pressure  can 't  put  him  into  my 
cabinet." 

According  to  the  untrustworthy  gossip  that  is 
always  flying  about  in  political  circles,  Bunkery  first 
bought  a  German  phrase-book,  but  after  studying  it 
a  few  minutes,  took  u  French  without  a  Master — A 
Complete  Guide  to  the  French  Language  between  Day- 
light and  Dark."  He  decided  upon  Paris,  for,  in  the 
other  case,  he  would  have  had  to  begin  by  learning 
tha  German  alphabet;  whereas  the  French  people  had, 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


as  he  said,  put  their  lingo  into  a  white  man's  letters. 
He  improved  his  time  and  mind  with  patient  study, 
until  everybody  admitted  that  he  spoke  French  like  a 
native  —  a  native  of  the  United  States  —  that  is  to 
say.  President  Brewster  had  a  sovereign  contempt 
for  foreigners,  and  sending  Bimkery  to  Paris,  and 
another  statesman  in  a  gray  homespun  suit  to  London, 
tickled  him  hugely. 

In  spite  of  Parisian  attractions,  Bunkery's  time  hung 
heavy  in  those  happy  hunting-grounds  of  the  native 
American.  He  was  more  "at  home"  cutting  out 
work  for  the  "boys;"  "setting  up  the  pins"  for  some- 
body's appointment  or  nomination;  and  "working," 
either  for  himself  or  for  somebody  pledged  in  turn  to 
"work"  for  him.  For  in  18  —  a  great  deal  of  this  sort 
of  thing  seems  to  have  been  introduced  into  Amer- 
]can  politics.  There  was  apparently  no  end  to  Brews- 
ter's  bad  influence. 

Bunkery  took  special  delight  in  his  membership  of 
the  House  of  Representatives.  lie  loved  to  hear  his 
own  voice  rising  above  the  din  and  tumult  of  three 
hundred  others,  and  to  influence  legislation  by  his 
.superior  shouting.  In  Paris  all  his  arts  rusted  for 
want  of  use;  even  his  lordly  gesture  of  tossing  back 
his  mane  grew  clumsy  from  want  of  practice.  Could 
he,  without  exposure  to  arrest  for  a  disturbance  of  the 
peace,  have  found  a  secluded  spot  at  Versailles  or 
Fontainbleau,  it  would  have  afforded  him  a  little  sat- 
isfaction to  roar  "Mr.  Speaker"  to  the  woods  and  the 
fountains,  a.nd  "hurl  back  the  falsehood  in  the  teeth"  of 
an  echo.  He  enjoyed  only  a  tantalizing  pleasure  in  lis- 


FIGHTING  MONOPOLIES.  191 

tening  to  the  debates  in  the  French  Chamber  of 
Deputies,  as  well  as  in  the  roaring,  the  riot,  the  calls 
to  order,  and  the  compliments  which  were  exchanged 
among  the  members.  On  the  whole,  there  was  rather 
more  of  it  than  he  was  used  to  in  Washington,  so  that 
at  times  it  seemed  something  like  a  burlesque  of  what 
is  called  debate  in  the  American  capital.  For  the 
most  part,  however,  his  share  as  a  mere  spectator  of 
the  fray,  instead  of  "drinking  delight  of  .battle  with 
his  peers,"  made  him  homesick  and  forlorn.  More 
than  once  the  cries  and  gestures,  though  the  words 
were  meaningless,  excited  him  almost  to  the  point  of 
taking  part  in  their  "deliberations,"  as  he  did  once  at 
home,  by  standing  on  the  top  of  his  desk  and  shriek- 
ing, "Order!  order!  I  call  the  strutting  turkey-gob- 
bler from  Winnipeg  to  order!" 

On  these  occasions  he  deeply  regretted  his  ignor- 
ance of  French;  particularly  when  an  orator  of  the 
Right  awakened  his  party  to  huzzas  and  bravoes  by  a 
reply  to  a  member  on  the  Left.  "  He  mnst  have  called 
him  a  'court-jester'  or  a  'little  fellow '"  said  Mr. 
Bunkery  to  himself.  The  assaulted  member  "hurled 
back"  a  "withering  retort"  which  provoked  the  Left  to 
bravoes  and  huzzas.  "I  reckon  he  called  him  a  '  mon- 
key,' or  a  '  fat  man, ' "  thought  Bunkery,  knowing  the 
eifect  of  such  brilliant  satire  at  "Washington ;  "  nothing 
else  would  have  stirred  'em  up  like  that." 

"What's  all  this  row  about?"  he  asked  of  an  Eng- 
lishman next  him. 

"Well,  one  little  blackguard  called  the  other  an  as- 
sassin, and  the  big  one  said  the  other  cove  was  'a  Bis- 
marck spy. ' " 


192  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

Then  Bunkery  grieved  that  he  had  not  devoted  at 
least  another  week  to  the  study  of  French,  so  as  to 
have  entered  more  into  the  enjoj'ment  of  these  "de- 
bates." He  had  an  idea  he  might  have  got  a  "wrinkle'' 
or  two  which  would  have  added  to  his  usefulness  in 
"Washington. 

For,  wearied  of  this  provoking  pantomime — this 
mere  spirit-photograph  of  persons  and  scenes  which  he 
loved  so  well — he  had  already  sent  in  his  resignation 
and  was  on  the  eve  of  departing  for  his  native  land. 
On  his  return,  he  was  elected  "Congressman  at  large" 
from  "Injanner;"  though  perhaps  it  might  be  difficult 
to  say  how  his  being  at  large  distinguished  him  from 
some  other  members  of  his  party. 

Under  these  circumstances  the  contumely  with 
which  this  railroad  superintendent  had  responded  to 
his  reasonable  request  for  a  pass,  harassed  him  sorely 
as  he  rode  along.  His  very  name — derived,  on  his 
mother's  side,  from  Colonel  Thomas  Bullion,  whose 
famous  passion  for  metallic  currency  had,  in  success- 
ive veins,  been  mixed  with  so  much  alloy  that  it  had 
disappeared  altogether  from  Bunkery's  circulation, 
— ought  of  itself  to  have  protected  him. 

The  first  day  of  the  session,  Bunkery,  smarting  un- 
der his  wrongs,  introduced  a  bill  forbidding  any  rail- 
road company  in  the  United  States  to  charge  passen- 
gers more  than  half  a  cent  per  mile,  and  another  one 
providing  that  all  grain-producers  and  their  families 
should  be  furnished  free  transportation,  according  to 
the  area  of  land  under  cultivation  in  their  respective. 
Congressional  districts.  This,  he  claimed,  would  be 


FIGHTING  MONOPOLIES.  193 

both  a  premium  on  grain-raising,  and  a  hint  to  the 
"  railroad  magnates"  that  they  were  but  the  servants 
of  the  people. 

The  president  of  the  I.  B.  X.  and  Q.,  having  had  an 
inkling  of  the  trouble  which  spurred  Bunkery  to  this 
defense  of  the  agricultural  interests,  called  upon  him, 
and,  after  handing  him  an  annual  pass,  apologized  for 
the  conduct  of  his  subordinate. 

"  I  should  n't  think  your  road  could  afford  to  keep 
such  a  man,"  said  Bunkery,  deeming  it  unworthy  of 
his  dignity  to  seem  as  softened  as  he  really  was  by 
the  corporate  graciousness  thus  shown  him. 

"A  little  testy,  I  admit,  but  he's  too  valuable  a 
man  to  be  dismissed  for  any  trifling  reason,"  said  the 
president  of  the  road. 

"Excuse  me!  I  don't  call  his  offense  trivial  at  all. 
If  any  of  my  men  were  to  behave  toward  a  member 
of  Congress  in  that  way,  he  would  go  out  of  his  office 
as  he  would  out  of  a  gun." 

"  O,  of  course,  in  a  government  office  it's  different," 
said  the  railroad  president,  slightingly;  "  One  man 
will  do  about  as  well  as  another  there!  But  in  the 
railroad  business,  wThere  there  are  great  interests  at 
stake,  you  cannot  find  a  man  that  '11  fill  the  bill,  just 
by  advertising  for  him  in  the  papers." 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  the  government  business  is  so 
insignificant  as  you  make  out,"  said  Bunkery,  piqued 
at  the  tone  of  contempt  which  the  other  used  in  speak- 
ing of  the  civil  service.  "  There  's  the  affairs  of  fifty 
million  people  to  be  looked  after,  and  anywhere  from 
two  to  three  hundred  millions  of  money  to  be  dis- 
13 


191  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

bursed  and  accounted  for.  That  shows  pretty  well  by 
the  side  of  a  railroad." 

"  0,  yes,  of  course,"  said  his  visitor,  with  an  inno- 
cent air;  "  but  we  could  n't  afford  to  hire  or  dismiss 
men  for  the  same  reason  you  do.  We  have  to  take 
them  because  they  can  do  the  work  we  want  done,  and 
we  make  sure  of  their  doing  it  by  keeping  them  in 
their  places  as  long  as  they  do  it  well.  It  would  soon 
bankrupt  a  railroad  company,  if  its  employes  knew 
they  'd  all  be  dismissed  every  leap-year,  unless  they 
put  in  their  time  working  up  the  stockholders  to  keep 
in  the  same  president  and  board  of  directors.  But 
the  United  States  are  rich,  and  can  stand  a  good  deal 
of  that  racket.  However,  I  must  bid  you  good  day. 
"YVe  hope  you  '11  not  press  your  bills  too  far." 

Bunkery  intimated  that  nothing  further  should  be 
heard  of  them.  Nevertheless,  in  order  to  remind  his 
constituents  of  his  vigilance  for  their  welfare,  and  to 
maintain  his  popularity  at  home,  he  occasionally  called 
them  up,  pushing  neither  to  a  vote,  but  preferring  to 
hold  them  over  the  heads  of  the  railroad  companies, 
rather  than  cut  himself  off  from  all  favors  by  fulfill- 
ing his  threats.  Besides,  he  was  looking  forward  to 
measures,  which,  if  successful,  would,  in  his  judgment, 
lift  him  quite  out  of  reach  of  any  man's  contempt  or 
insolence. 


PERCEVAL'S  DREAM.  195 


CHAPTER    XX. 

PERCEVAL'S  DREAM. 

EARLY  one  morning,  about  this  time,  Augustus  Per- 
ceval called  upon  his  relative,  the  President,  whom, 
with  the  omnipresent  Dan  forth,  he  found  just  rising 
from  the  breakfast-table. 

Brewster  was  possessed  of  a  strong  family  feeling 
that  might  have  been  affection,  or  that  might  have 
been  clannish  pride.  Perhaps  it  was  to  this  weak  ec- 
centricity, perhaps  to  some  other  motive,  that  his  kins- 
man owed  his  place  at  the  head  of  a  bureau  in  one  of 
the  departments.  The  promotion  had,  to  say  the 
least,  not  reduced  the  cubic  contents  of  Perceval's 
conceit.  Combined  with  his  dark  suit,  his  black  silk 
vest,  and  his  gold  chain  attached  to  a  silver  watch  and 
ornamenting  his  portly  person,  it  gave  him,  more 
than  ever,  the  mien  of  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  Con- 
stitution. 

"Everybody  keeps  asking  me,"  he  remarked,  taking 
a  seat  near  the  table,  "  if  you  are  going  to  veto  Bunk- 
ery's  bills  for  the  issue  of  more  greenbacks  and  the 
increase  of  pensions,  and  I  don't  know  what  to  tell 
them." 

"Tell  them  you  do  not  know,"  replied  Brewster 
tersely. 


196  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"  They  say,"  continued  Perceval,  pulling  out  a 
newspaper,  "  that  a  president  so  anxious  for  a  brilliant 
administration  and  who  recommends  steamship  sub- 
sidies, Mississippi  levees,  and  magnificent  government 
railroad  projects,  must  know  that  these  schemes  require 
money,  and  he  is  bound  to  do  all  he  can  to  supply  it.'' 

"  Newspapers  never  affect  me,"  replied  Brews ter, 
"  I  edited  one  myself  for  a  short  time,  and  I  know, 
how  they  are  made  and  all  about  the  men  who  make 
them." 

"  A  veto  '11  split  the  party  like  a  buzz-saw,"  contin- 
ued Perceval,  "  and  what 's  more,  it  '11  put  me  in  a 
very  embarrassing  position,  for  I  have  denied  the  ru- 
mors right  along." 

"  You  must  not  talk  so  much,"  remarked  Brewster. 
"  A  man  who  slops  over,  always  stands  in  a  puddle." 

This  hurt  Perceval's  feelings,  but,  having  some  fur- 
ther business  to  attend  to,  he  proceeded: 

"Bunkery  is  bothering  the  life  out  of  me  about  his 
man,  Cranage.  It  's  Cranage  from  morning  till 
night.  Though  he  knows  there 's  not  room  enough 
to  stick  in  even  a  pin,  he  tells  Cranage  I  've  got  plen- 
ty of  places.  His  man  Aiken  is  good  for  nothing, 
and  he  has  somebody  he  wants  to  put  in,  in  Mrs. 
Cleland's  place." 

"  I  cannot  be  bothered  with  it,"  said  Brewster. 

"  Why  not  tell  Cranage,"  suggested  Danforth, 
"  that,  if  Bunkery  will  consent,  he  shall  have  Aiken's 
place." 

Perceval  looked  radiant. 

"Capital!  Capital!    A  capital  idea!"  he  exclaimed. 


PERCEVAL'S  DREAM.  197 

"  I  was  just  on  the  point  of  thinking  of  it  myself. 
I  '11  have  tJiat  fixed  before  night." 

After  a  short  conference  further,  he  went  away  in 
a  most  cheerful  frame  of  mind,  feeling  equal  to  re- 
sisting or  circumventing  a  wilderness  of  Congress- 
men. 

Finishing  his  duties  early,  he  strolled  over  to  the 
House  of  Representatives  to  hear  Bunkery  make  the 
closing  speech  in  favor  of  the  measure  on  which  he 
had  staked  the  reputation  of  his  career.  It  was  his 
bill  for  abolishing  the  national  banks,  and  largely  in- 
creasing the  greenback  issue. 

"When  the  chaplain  of  the  House  compared  it  to 
the  original  fiat  of  the  Almighty  in  the  creation  of 
the  world,  and  afterward  when  the  bill  was  put  on  its 
final  passage  and  sent  to  the  President  for  his  signa- 
ture, it  may  easily  be  conceived  that  it  was  a  proud 
day  for  Bunkery.  Grandly  tossing  his  mane  and 
looking  around  the  House  with  a  glance  of  leonine 
triumph,  he  made  his  way  to  the  street-car  with  an 
exultation  he  had  rarely  known  before.  "  "Where,"  he 
asked  himself,  in  a  semi-conscious  soliloquy,  "  would 
this  mighty  current  of  success  stop?  "What  limit 
could  any  one  set  to  the  greatness  and  the  power 
which  had  at  last  found  expression  in  this  statesman's 
measitre?"  He  began  thinking  of  the  "White  House 
and  its  next  possible  occupant;  considering  some 
of  the  previous  tenants,  he  was  not  perhaps  without 
justification  for  his  presumptuous  romance. 

Suddenly  he  stumbled  across  Mordecai,  though  his 
real  name  was  Perceval,  standing  on  the  street  corner. 


198  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

The  latter  was  on  tlie  point  of  saying,  "  splendid 
effort  that  of  yours,"  but  Bunkery  burst  out: 

"  I  want  to  come  to  an  understanding  with  you 
now  and  here;  and  I  don't  want  any  of  your  insolent 
messages  telling  me  I  can  have  one  man  put  in,  if 
I'll  consent  to  have  another  put  out.  I  intend  to 
have  Aiken  kept  there," — 

"  O,  I  thought  perhaps  he  had  about  paid  up,"  re- 
torted Perceval. 

"  I  know  perfectly  well  where  the  insolence  comes 
from,  too,"  continued  Bunkery.  "  Sooner  or  later  I 
intend  to  have  .a  settlement  with  that  man  at  the 
other  end  of  the  Avenue." 

"  That  man  at  the  other  end  of  the  Avenue,  is  going 
to  veto  your  bill,"  said  Perceval,  with  his  enjoyable 
sense  of  imparting  information  enhanced  in  this  case 
by  the  consciousness  that  it  would  be  unwelcome. 

Bunkery  was  momentarily  stunned,  then,  recollecting 
the  notorious  untrustworthiness  of  his  informant,  re- 
fused to  believe  it. 

"If  he  does  he'll  be  blowtf  so  high  that  that  young 
woman  up  yonder,"  he  said,  glancing  at  the  Goddess 
of  Liberty  on  the  apex  of  the  capitol,  "will  come  down 
before  he  does, — and  you  may  tell  him  so,"  he  added, 
as  he  stepped  upon  the  car. 

In  spite  of  the  bold  face  he  had  put  on,  Perceval 
was  a  little  startled  at  the  outcome  of  this  interview. 
He  had  intended  accompanying  the  statesman  to  the 
hotel  which  both  of  them  patronized  with  their  pres- 
ence, and  which,  although  already  dedicated  by  name 
to  one  of  the  Apostles,  was,  Perceval  fancied,  far  more 


PERCEVAL'S  DREAM.  199 

distinguished  by  his  casual  sojourn  within  its  saintly 
precincts  than  by  its  own  apostolic  honors. 

But  Perceval's  chagrin  was  of  a  sort  to  be  easily 
soothed  by  a  good  dinner,  and  he  came  out  of  the 
dining-room  without  a  trace  on  mind  or  face  of  the 
mortification  he  had  suffered  at  Mr.  Bunkery's  hands. 

As  he  approached  the  desk  in  the  office  of  the  hotel 
and  procured  a  tooth-pick  from  the  little  crystal  barrel 
which  held  them,  the  proprietor  on  the  other  side  beck- 
oned him  within. 

"  I  'd  like  it,  Mr.  Perceval,  if  you  'd  settle  your  ac- 
count. It  has  been  running  a  long  time  now,  and  I 
want  the  money." 

"  But  I  have  n't  money  enough  for  myself,  so  it 's 
absurd  to  suppose  that  I  have  any  for  anybody  else," 
replied  Perceval  jauntily,  in  hopes  of  having  the  affair 
settled  by  a  joke. 

"  Jokes  pay  no  bills,"  said  the  landlord  with  slight 
tartness.  "  I  Ve  not  been  in  a  hurry,  but  there 's  rea- 
son in  all  things,  and  I  wish  you  'd  attend  to  it." 

"  I  '11  attend  to  it  to-morrow,"  said  Perceval,  walking 
to  the  telephone  and  ordering  a  messenger. 

After  dispatching  a  note  to  an  acquaintance,  who 
was  directed  to  meet  him  later  at  a  short  distance 
from  the  hotel,  he  ascended  to  his  room. 

In  a  few  moments  he  was  joined  by  an  assistant 
door-keeper  of  the  Senate,  the  clerk  of  the  Mississippi 
Improvement  Committee,  and  two  or  three  other  more 
or  less  important  parts  of  that  mechanism  called  the 
Government,  who  proposed  relieving,  by  a  rubber  or 
two  of  cards,  their  arduous  discharge  of  the  duties  per- 


200  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

taining  to  that  section  of  the  universe  assigned  to  their 
care. 

They  were  in  the  midst  of  their  game,  when  Dan- 
forth  came  in  with  some  papers  for  Perceval.  After 
laying  them  down  he  opened  the  door  to  go  out,  but,  get- 
ting interested  in  the  game,  closed  it  again  and  stood 
behind  Perceval  looking  at  the  players. 

"  Yes  "  said  Perceval,  not  perceiving  him  and  con- 
tinuing the  remarks  which  his  entrance  had  inter- 
rupted, "  the  old  man  was  seriously  thinking  of  clap- 
ping a  veto  on  to  the  Bunkery  bill.  But  I  went  up  there 
and  says  I,  Aaron,  you're  all  wrong;  you're  making 
the  greatest  mistake  of  your  life — in  my  opinion ;  if 
you  've  got  very  far  along  on  that  tack  (I  '11  play  it 
alone),  you  must  get  back  on  the  right  track,  somehow. 
He  thanked  me  and  said  he  guessed  he  was  rather 
hasty;  that  my  advice  was  well  put  and  worth  think- 
ing over;  and  he  should  probably  follow  it." 

There  was  a  subdued  hush  in  the  room,  as  if  Perce- 
val's familiarity  with  executive  greatness  had,  for 
their  benefit,  tinctured  the  atmosphere  with  a  rarified 
solution  of  it;  but  a  close  observer  would  have  been 
amused  at  Danforth's  countenance. 

*'  Eight  smart  man,  that  Bunkery,"  said  an  appli- 
cant for  an  "  Injanner  "  post-office,  who  had  come  in 
with  the  clerk  of  the  Mississippi  Eiver  Improvement 
Committee. 

"Yes,  he  is,"  continued  Perceval ;"  but  he  meets 
with  his  match  now  and  then,  in  my  opinion.  He's 
been  sending  a  man  named  Cranage  to  me  with  an 
open  letter—" 


•PERCEVAL'S  DREAM.  201 

"Yes,  I  've  heard  of  him,"  said  the  embryonic  post- 
master of  "  Injanner;  "  "  lie  's  got  a  powerful  hold  on 
the  Methodists,  they  say." 

"Don't  know  about  that,"  said  Perceval;  "don't 
allow  any  religion  in  my  bureau.  Well,  this  letter 
says  I  must  find  a  place  for  Cranage;  that  I  could 
just's  well 's  not;  that  he,  Bunkery,  had  been  put  off 
long  enough,  and  he  'd  be  heard  from  unless  some- 
thing was  done.  Most  people  would  have  been  grav- 
eled by  such  a  fix  as  that,  but  I  saw  through  it  in  a 
flash.  Bunkery  already  has  a  man  named  Aiken  in 
one  of  the  best  places  going  (it 's  my  deal),  and  so 
when  this  fellow  comes  again  with  his  '  money-or- 
your-life '  sort  of  a  letter,  I  says:  'Tell  Bunkery 
tlioro  's  nothing  would  suit  me  better  than  doing  him 
a  favor,  and  to-morrow  Aiken  shall  be  bounced,  and 
you  shall  have  his  place.'  The  fellow's  "eyes  fairly 
danced  in  his  head  as  he  went  off,  but  I  sha'n't  see  any 
more  of  him— in  my  opinion.  (Count  us  two.)" 

Again  there  was  a  brief  pause  of  admiration  at 
the  intellect  capable  of  grappling  with  such  difficul- 
ties. 

"I  tell  you,  gentlemen,"  added  Perceval  looking 
about  him  at  his  audience  and  patting  his  forehead 
with  his  finger,  "  God  Almighty  did  n't  give  me  these 
brains  for  nothing" 

"  What  an  old  fraud  you  are,  Perceval!"  exclaimed 
Danforth,  unable  longer  to  contain  himself.  "  When 
you  talked  about  the  veto,  the  old  man  said  you  were 
slopping  over  as  usual,  and  /  suggested  that  way  of 
fixing  Bunkery,  because  you  said  he  was  bothering  the 
life  out  of  you." 


202  A  FAMOUS,  VICTORY.  . 

"  O,  perhaps  that  was  the  way,"  said  Perceval,  look- 
ing up  in  astonishment. 

"  Of  course,  no  one  could  expect  you  to  remember 
all  the  trifling  details  of  an  affair  like  that,"  said  Dan- 
forth  sneeringly,  between  whom  and  Perceval  no  love 
was  ever  lost. 

"  O,  no,"  replied  Perceval,  "  I  'm  constantly  making 
these  little  suggestions  to  the  President  and  I  don't 
pretend  to  set  as  much  store  by  them  as  do  some 
others  that  are  always  around  him." 

"  Neither  does  he,"  said  Danforth  retiring. 

The  game  did  not  last  long  after  this  and  Perceval's 
guests  retired  with  much  less  deference  than  they  had 
shown  on  entering. 

The  match  which,  at  this  interesting  seance,  Ban- 
forth  suddenly  scratched,  exposing  the  exceeding  hum- 
bug of  the  mysteries  Perceval  attempted  to  exhibit, 
spoiled,  at  least  with  this  audience,  his  business  as  a 
political  medium. 

Perceval  left  the  hotel  and  walked  up  the  famous 
avenue  the  length  of  a  block,  where  he  was  joined  by  a 
shambling  but  decently  dressed  man  who  followed  him 
a  little  ia  the  rear. 

Proceeding  to  the  White  House,  he  mounted  the 
stairs,  and,  leaving  his  companion  outside  the  door, 
stood  in  Brewster's  presence.  lie  noticed  that  the 
President  was  reading  Bunkery's  inflation  bill  and 
making  memoranda  as  he  read. 

"  I  'd  like  to  introduce  a  friend  of  mine  who,  has  an 
invention  for  • " 

"  I  cannot  see  him  now,"  said  Brewster. 


PERCEVAL'S  DBS  AM.  203 

"  Well,  the  fact  is,  I  brought  him  along  with  me." 

He  opened  the  door,  and,  in  the  loose-jointed  man 
who  shambled  forward,  the  President  recognized  the 
inventor  of  the  changeable  inks,  who  had  called  on  him 
at  Eoxbury. 

"  Show  him  the  door!"  said  Brewster. 

Perceval,  in  a  snubbed  and  humiliated  manner,  let 
him  out,  but  came  back  and,  in  a  few  minutes,  recover- 
ing himself,  proceeded. 

"  He  's  an  invention  he  's  let  me  into,  without  pay- 
ing him  a  cent.  I  put  a  suit  of  clothes  on  him,  but 
they  're  awfully  cheap.  I  calculated  they  'd  only  last 
just  long  enough  to  get  the  thing  agoin'  and  then  I  '11 
shake  him.  It  '11  be  the  makiii'  of  this  administration, 
in  my  opinion.  You  're  going  to  be  very  unpopular 
in  this  veto  business,  but  this  '11  put  you  all  right.  It 's 
a  process  for  increasing  the  wealth  of  the  country  at 
the  expense  of  a  few  chemicals.  I  can  use  $25,000  to 
advantage.  He  has  two  kinds  of  ink.  One  will  fade 
in  three  months  so's  you  might  as  well  look  for  the 
printing  as  for  hair  on  a  gun-barrel.  -The  other  takes 
three  months  to  come  out.  With  the  first  ink,  yon 
print  on  one  side  of  a  bill,  '  this  is  one  thousand  dol- 
lars,' and  on  the  other  side,  with  the  other  ink,  you 
print,  'this  is  three  thousand  or  ten  thousand  dollars.'  In 
three  months,  the  thousand-dollar  side  will  have  gone  to 
glory,  and  the  other  heave  in  sight  like  a  new  moon. 
You  take  your  thousand  dollar  bill  and  just  sit  'round 
till  the  three  months  are  up  arid  you  '11  have  from  three 
to  ten  times  as  much  as  you  started  with.  It 's  a  big- 
ger thing  than  the  discovery  of  America;  it  beats 


20-i  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

striking  oil  as  striking  oil  beat  ordinary  well-digging, 
in  my  opinion.  You  '11  be  elected  long  's  you  live,  or 
can  go  across  and  board  for  nothing  with  those  Kings. 
And  then  you  can  hand  over  the  fellows  that  '11  hatch 
the  three-pounders  to  your  friends,  don't  you  see?  and 
give  the  small  fry  to  the  common  folks.  A  man 
might  as  well  be  as  blind  as  the  fish  in  the  Mammoth 
Cave  not  to  see  he  can  make  this  nation  the  richest  in 
the  world,  in  my  opinion.  It  will  be  a  grand  lottery, 
only  everybody  'II  draw  a  prize,"  said  Perceval,  com- 
ing to  a  pause  at  last. 

President  Brewster,  carefully  wiping  his  pen  and 
laying  it  down  in  front  of  him,  wheeled  his  chair  about 
and  said  without  anger  but  with  marked  deliberation  : 

"  You  go  around  making  both  of  us  ridiculous.  I  am 
constantly  hearing  of  your  speeches,  and  in  a  day  or 
two  they  get  into  the  papers.  I  have  always  tried  to  do 
my  best  by  you,  because  your  father  was  kind  to  me 
when  I  was  a  boy ;  but  if  you  can't  keep  still,  I  will  send 
you  adrift,  so  as  not  to  be  responsible  for  your  idiocies." 

It  is  popularly  believed  that  worms  and  treadmills 
will  turn  when  stepped  on.  It  is  certain  that  some 
persons,  notorious  for  the  ease  with  which  they  can  be 
snubbed  and  bullied,  do,  without  warning,  at  last  re- 
sent an  excess  of  the  tyranny  and  humiliation  to  which 
they  have  previously  submitted  with  misleading  meek- 
ness. 

Much  to  Brewster's  astonishment,  Perceval,  instead, 
of  collapsing  as  he  had  always  done  before,  came  for- 
ward. 

"I  am  badly  off,  "  said  he.     "  This  fellow's  scheme 


PERCEVAL'S  DREAM.  205 

seems  all  right,  in  my  opinion,  and  if  you'll  give  me 
a  lift  I  '11  let  things  go  along  as  they  are." 

"And  if  I  don't,  what  then?"  asked  Brews  ter  puz- 
zled. "It  appears  you  are  a  spendthrift  and  want  me 
to  pay  your  debts.  I  have  done  little  else  since  I  can  re- 
member. As  there  has  got  to  be  an  end  to  it  sometime, 
I  will  end  it  now. " 

Perceval  was  frightened,  but  his  fright '  made  him 
desperate.  By  an  exertion  of  what,  in  his  case,  was 
almost  superhuman  courage,  he  drew  his  chair  close 
to  Brewster's,  and,  for  several  minutes,  talked  with- 
out interruption  in  a  low  and  mysterious  tone.  Final- 
ly, wondering  just  where  the  bolt  would  descend  upon 
him,  he  stopped,  drew  back,  and  prepared  himself  for 
the  worst. 

"  Well,"  said  Brewster,  in  a  mild  and  almost  pater- 
nal tone,  taking  up  his  pen,  "  I  have  something  more 
important  on  hand  than  listening  to  your  queer 
dreams.  It  seems  you  remember  them  a  good  while." 

"  It  was  n't  a  dream,"  said  Perceval. 

"  O,  yes  it  was,  Perceval — a  devilish  queer  dream 
— a  devilish  bad  one,  too — a  dream  a  man  had  better 
forget.  What  makes  you  want  to  remember  it? " 

"  I  can 't  help  remembering  it,"  said  Perceval.  "  It 
\vas  n't  a  dream  at  all,  in  my  opinion.  I  thought  you  'd 
like  to  hear  it.  I  thought  other  people  would  like  to 
hear  it." 

"  If  you  should  tell  it  to  other  people  they  would 
think  you  were  crazy;  and  would  say  why  does  not 
Brewster  put  that  pet  of  his  into  a  lunatic  asylum?" 

At  the    words  "lunatic  asylum,"   Perceval  grew 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


pale.  He  had  a  large  confidence  in  Brewster's  re- 
sources and  in  his  readiness  to  employ  them.  Brew- 
ster,  perceiving  this  change  in  his  demeanor,  added: 

"  Of  course,  I  do  not  want  to  go  to  extremes  in  cur- 
ing you  of  the  hallucinations,  but  it  is  a  case  which  re- 
quires close  looking  after.  I  might  have  to  put  you 
in  charge  of  those  who  make  these  things  a  special 
study.  You  see,  you  are  the  victim  of  two  delusions 
one  about  the  paper  money,  the  other  about  what  you 
thought  you  heard  that  night  when  you  were  so  sound 
asleep." 

Perceval  looked  gloomy,  but  said  nothing,  and 
Brewster  continued: 

"  I  can  arrange  to  settle  those  little  embarrassments 
of  yours,  and  if  you'll  not  give  way  to  these  fits  of 
talkativeness  you  are  subject  to,  and  will  live  more 
reputably,  we  '11  make  a  man  of  you  yet.  You  are  too 
visionary.  Perhaps  you  had  better  go  off  for  awhile. 
How  would  you  like  New  Orleans?  I  do  not  know 
anything  better  for  a  man  in  your  disturbed  condition 
of  mind  than  a  course  of  Louisiana  politics.  They 
have  n't  their  equal  for  giving  a  man  practical  views.'' 

"  To  New  Orleans?"  gasped  Perceval.  "  Why  I  'd 
die  of  yellow  fever  in  less  than  two  weeks,  in  my 
opinion."  ' 

"Do not  get  excited,  Perceval!  You  speak  as  if  it 
would  be  a  national  calamity.  What  do  you  think  of 
the  Sandwich  Islands,  then  3  They  are  healthy  enough. 
We  send  the  broken-down  workers  to  the  Sandwich 
Islands,  to  recruit." 

"  I  don't  want  to  think  of  them  at  all,"  said  Perce- 


PERCEVAL'S  DREAM.  207 

val.  "  There 's  the  long  week  of  railroading — seven 
times  the  risk  of  an  ordinary  journey;  then  the  nasty 
sea  voyage — it  would  be  just  my  luck  to  be  drowned, 
in  my  opinion." 

"  You  must  think  of  it,  or  something  like  it.  You 
would  be  happier  to  die  and  have  done  with  it,  than  to 
be  all  the  time  afraid  to  die.  I  guess  we  '11  put  you 
clown  for  the  Sandwich  Islands,  though  if  you  had 
rather  go  to  Montreal  and  freeze  to  death  I  am  not 
particular." 

"  Well,  the  Sandwich  Islands,"  said  Perceval  with 
a  little  shudder  at  the  sea,  or  rather  at  the  thought  of 
the  sea,  for  he  had  never  trusted  his  precious  self  on 
anything  more  dangerous  than  a  ferry-boat. 

"  Go  home  now,  and  sleep  soundly!  "  said  Brewster, 
as  if  talking  to  a  chastised  and  subjugated  child,  "to- 
morrow you  will  undoubtedly  awake  with  your  head 
clear  and  all  these  illusions  entirely  gone." 

And  waving  him  away,  he  settled  himself  to  his 
work  again. 


208  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER    XXL 

A  FATAL  ILLNESS. 

IN  the  early  part  of  the  following  forenoon,  the 
President  was  waited  upon  by  a  member  of  the  House 
of  Representatives  from  "  Injanuer,"  who  was  deeply 
interested  in  the  success  of  Mr.  Byles,  Mr.  Bunkery's 
rival  for  the  Senatorship.  He  had  evidently  been 
walking  fast,  and,  though  his  face  was  solemn,  and 
he  spoke  in  a  low  and  sympathetic  voice,  he  was  eager 
and  excited. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  of  your  affliction,  Mr.  Presi- 
dent, and  I  would  not  have  called  at  such  a  time  did 
I  not  feel  the  imperative  necessity  of  acting  at  once." 

The  President,  bewildered  by  his  words,  looked  at 
him  in  surprise. 

"  My  affliction,"  he  murmured. 

"  Yes,  sir;  the  sudden  and  providential  removal  of 
your  relative,  Perceval." 

The  President  muttered  to  himself,  "He  has  been 
talking  already;  nothing  but  death  will  silence  him." 
Then  he  said  aloud  :  "  I  should  hardly  describe  it  as 
an  affliction." 

The  gentleman  stared,  and  thought,  "  If  I  felt  so, 
I  don't  think  I  would  admit  it."  Brewster's  remark 


A  FATAL  ILLNESS.  <         209 

so  embarrassed  him  that  he  was  at  a  loss  for  further 
words,  and  the  President  said  : 

"  Please  explain  yourself! " 

"Do  you  not  know?  Have  you  not  heard  that  Mr. 
Perceval  is  dead  ?  It  was  about  the  vacancy  that  I 
called  to  speak  to  you  in  the  interest  of  my  friend, 
Byles  of  Injanner." 

"  Perceval  dead — Augustus  Perceval  dead! "  inter- 
rupted Brewster,  in  tones  so  loud,  that  Danforth  hear- 
ing them,  rose  and  came  hurriedly  forward.  "  When, 
did  he  d ie ?  Where  ?  What  was  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Last  night — or  .rather  this  morning,  at  his  hotel. 
Some  of  the  hotel  people  said  so.  When  the  porter 
went  for  the  doctor  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  he 
was  not  'expected  to  live — the  attack  was  so  sudden." 

"  I  have  not  heard  a  word  of  it.  I  must  see  to  it 
at  once.  Good  morning!  "  said  Brewster  to  the  con- 
gressman, ending  the  interview;  but  as  the  latter 
moved  away  he  said : 

"  Do  not  forget,  Mr.  President,  the  priority  of  my 
application." 

Brewster  said  nothing  more,  but  turned  to  Law- 
rence, who  was  reading  a  telegram  which  had  that 
moment  arrived.  His  face  expressed  renewed  aston- 
ishment as  he  handed  it  to  Brewster.  It  was  an 
application  from  a  Philadelphia  politician  for  the 
vacancy  which,  as  he  was  informed  from  trustworthy 
sources  in  Washington,  had  just  occurred  by  the  death 
of  Mr.  Perceval. 

The  president  and  Danforth  looked  at  each  other. 
Their  expression  could  not  have  been  called  so  much  a 
-14 


210          .  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

look  of  joy  as  of  relief.  Brewster  pressed  liis  hand 
softly  and  confidentially  upon  Danforth's  arm,  as  if 
that  were  a  sufficient  commentary  upon  this  strange 
news.  The  danger  of  an  explosion  under  his  feet,  by 
the  reckless  or  malicious  gossip  of  his  addle-pated 
relative  was  gone.  Every  day  during  the  whole  of 
his  term  this  possible  result  had  been  present  with 
him — had  been  a  source  of  constant  discomfort  and 
seriously  impaired  his  satisfaction  in  his  office. 

His  suspicion  of  Perceval's  knowledge,  which  Per- 
ceval's daring  confession,  the  night  before,  changed 
into  a  certainty,  had,  in  the  disposal  of  his  uncomfort- 
able relative,  much  perplexed  him.  But  a  wiser  and 
higher  power  than  his  had  taken  the  matter  out  of  his 
hands,  and  he  could  now  truly  enjoy  the  fruits  of  his 
long  struggle  and  toil.  Surely  there  was  a  providence 
in  human  affairs  after  all.  "  It 's  a  very  unusual  way 
of  communicating  news  of  that  nature,"  he  said  after 
a  moment's  reflection.  "  The  instinct  for  discovering 
dead  men's  shoes  is  the  result  of  generations  of  train- 
ing by  our  institutions.  It  is  a  distinct  species  of 
retriever.  Though,  I  think,"  he  added  after  another 
moment  of  thought,  "we  will  wait  and  see  if  they 
have  not  been  misled  in  this  case.  It  is  not  often 
they  get  upon  the  wrong  scent,  but  it  is  possible." 

The  keen  night  wind,  which  had  suddenly  arisen, 
struck  the  perspiring  Perceval  with  a  chill  that,  by  as 
rapid  walking  as  his  portliness  permitted,  he  tried  to 
shake  off.  But  in  spite  of  his  efforts  his  teeth  chat- 
tered, as  he  took  Brewster's  advice  and  got  quickly  to 
bed. 


A  FATAL  ILLNESS.  211 

He  bad  been  asleep  two  or  three  hours,  when  he 
awoke  with  sensations  of  burning  and  suffocation. 
His  heart  was  pumping  the  hot  blood  at  the  rate  of 
over  a  hundred  strokes  the  minute.  From  head  to 
foot  he  was  on  fire  with  fever.  He  felt  that  his  last 
hour,  of  which  all  his  life  he  had  lived  in  mortal 
dread,  had  indeed  come  like  a  thief  in  the  night. 
He  was  surprised  at  the  amount  of  strength  still  left 
him,  as,  with  swimming  head  and  tottering  limbs,  he 
touched  the  electric  knob  that  rang  the  office  gong. 
He  had  to  repeat  the  summons  thrice  before  the 
waiter  appeared,  getting  a  chill  each  time  that  he 


"  Come  in!"  he  cried,  in  answer  to  the  knock;  but 
the  door  was  locked,  and  he  dared  not  rise  again. 
Luckily  the  transom  was  open,  and  he  shouted  at  the 
top  of  his  voice: 

"Is  that  you,  Tom?" 

«Yes,sah!" 

"For  God's  sake,  Tom,  get  a  doctor 'here  at  once! 
I'm  dying,  Tom.  Tell  him  to  come  quick  or  it  will 
be  too  late!" 

The  frightened  servant,  anxious  to  divide  the  re- 
sponsibility of  so  critical  a  case  with  some  one  more 
capable  of  dealing  with  it,  bethought  him  of  Mr. 
Bunkery,  whose  room  was  on  an  adjoining  hall. 
Knocking  loudly  on  that  statesman's  door  and  waking 
him  from  his  dreams  at  the  very  climax  in  the  deliv- 
ery of  his  inaugural  message,  he  called  out: 

"Fo'  de  Lawd,  Mas'  Bunkery,  Mas'  Perceval  be  a 
dyin'  fd>  suah." 


212  A  FAMOUS- VICTORY. 

"Dying?  nonsense!"  said  Bunkery;  "who  told 
you  so?" 

"  Mas'  Perceval  done  tole  me  hisself;  lie  wants  de 
doctah." 

"Why  in  don't  you  get  him  one,  then?" 

"  I  tort  maybe  you  'd  like  to  see  dat  he  did  n't  breve 
his  las'  breff,  while  I  was  gwine  fo'  de  doctah." 

"I'll  go  see  him,"  said  Bunkery,  stumbling  gradu 
ally  into  a  few  of  his  most  accessible  garments.  By 
that  time  he  was  vjide  awake,  and  stood  tapping  at 
Perceval's  door. 

The  latter,  who,  as  his  fever  went  raging  through 
him,  was  growing  worse  and  more  excited,  and  filled 
with  dread  reluctance  of  moving,  arose  and  unlocked 
the  door. 

"  I  hear  you  are  sick,"  said  Bunkery. 

"Very  sick!  desperately  sick  !  Why  doesn't  the  doc- 
tor come?  Every  inch- of  me  is  a  fire.  I  'in  undergo- 
ing cremation  before  death.  My  pulse  beats  like  a- 
trip-hammer. '  I  don't  feel 's  if  1  'd  got  fifteen  minutes 
to  live." 

Bunkery  felt  of  his  pulse  and  was  a  good  deal 
alarmed  at  the  heat  and  at  the  rapid  blows  of  the  surg- 
ing blood  on  the  vein  of  the  wrist. 

"  Yes,  you  're  pretty  sick,"  said  he,  "  but  the  doc- 
tor '11  be  here  soon,  and  then  we  '11  see  what  he  says." 

" O,  he  can 't  do  any  good,  I'm  afraid,"  said  the 
sick  man;  "I  am  too  ill  for  that;  I  am  dying;  I  know 
I  am.  I've  read  all  about  it,  and  it's  just  the  way 
people  go  off  of  a  sudden." 

Bunkery's  knowledge  of  disease  was  not  accurate 


A  FATAL  ILLNESS.  213 

enough  to  warrant  his  denying  Perceval's  positive 
opinion,  and  he  was  almost  frightened  by  his  earnest- 
ness into  believing  all  he  said  about  it. 

"Anything  I  can  do  for  you?"  he  asked  solemnly; 
"  any  last  words  or  wishes?" 

Perceval  was  so  impressed  with  Bunkery's  confirm- 
ation of  his  fears  that  he  did  not  speak  immediately, 
but  finally  replied: 

"  I  've  led  a  prett}^  bad  life  and  I  ain't  fit  to  die. 
I  've  been  a  very  wicked  fellow  in  my  time,  and  there 
are  some  things  I  ought  to  say  which  ought  not  to  die 
with  me." 

"  I  s'pose  a  man  likes  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it, 
when  he  gets  into  this  fix."  said  Bunkery,  chiefly  be- 
ca*use  he  did  not  know  what  else  to  say. 

'•I  'd  live  a  better  life  if  I  were  to  do  it  over  again. 
I  'd  like  to  live  and  try  it.  O,  I  don't  want  to  die.  I 
can 't  die,"  he  panted. 

He  rolled  and  tossed  in  the  bed,  frightening  Bunk- 
ery, and  making  him  wish  that  the  doctor  would  come 
as  much  on  his  own  account  as  on  Perceval's. 

"Do  you  think  there's  any  chance?"  asked  Per- 
ceval, vehemently. 

"  Seems  to  me  you  're  pretty  sick,"  said  Bunkery, 
trying  vainly  to  think  of  something  consolatory,  "but 
I  don't  know  anything  about  it,  and  perhaps  I  am 
mistaken;"  a  form  of  confession  unusual  with  Bunkery. 

And  still  the  fever  raged  until,  at  times,  it  seemed 
to  Perceval  as  if  the  very  force  of  the  throbs  would 
lift  the  top  of  his  head  off.  He  gasped  and  begged  for 
water  and  every  moment  grew  more  alarmed  at  the 
tremendous  pounding  in  his  chest. 


214  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"  There 's  something  I  s  'pose  I  ought  to  say  about 
Brews ter's  affairs  before  I  die." 

"Ah!"  said  Bunkery,  all  attention. 

"  Tes,  I  'm  knowing  to  a  good  deal  of  what 's  been 
going  on.  I  s'pose  I  should  die  easier  if  I  were  to  get 
that  off  my  mind." 

"  No  doubt  of  it,"  said  Bunkery,  "  a  man  in  your 
state  ought  to  feel  the  solemnity  of  his  duty." 

"Tes,"  said  Perceval,  convinced  by  Bunkery's 
manner  that  his  case  was  critical,  and  influenced  by 
his  ruling  passion  to  disburden  himself  of  the  secret  he 
had  painfully  kept  hidden  so  long,  "Yes,  I  '11  tell  you." 

And  with  many  starts,  and  frights,  and  gaspings, 
he  proceeded  with  his  story  until  the  doctor  came  in. 

The  latter  went  through  the  ritual  common  to  such 
cases,  prescribing  treatment  and  remedies.     Bunkery 
followed  him  into  the  hall,  asking: 
.   "Is  he  very  sick?" 

"  Pretty  sick — eaten  too  much,  caught  cold." 

"  In  any  danger?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,  unless  he 's  imprudent." 

"  No  danger  of  dying?" 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  There  '11  be  a  change  before  morn- 
ing. He'll  be  all  right  in  a  day  or  two,"  said  the 
doctor  smiling  and  departing. 

Bunkery  lingered  in  thought  a  moment,  then,  sum- 
moning the  confidential  clerk  of  his  committee  to 
come  to  Perceval's  room,  he  returned  there  himself. 

"  What  does  the  doctor  really  think,"  asked  Per- 
ceval eagerly. 

Bunkery  shook  his  head  ominously,  which  plunged 
Perceval  into  another  spasm  of  fright. 


A  FATAL  ILLNESS.  215 

"I  knew  it!  I  knew  it!"  exclaimed  the  patient. 
"  Nobody  can  be  as  sick  as  I  am  and  get  well.  How 
long — how  long — did  he  think  I  could  live?"  he  asked 
with  some  hesitation,  as  if  he  hardly  dared  face  the 
answer. 

"He  said  you'd  live  till  morning,"  replied  Bun- 
kery. 

"  So  soon!  So  soon!"  cried  Perceval.  "  I  'd  like  to 
see  Brewster;  he 's  the  only  relative  I  've  got  here." 

"  All  right,"  said  Bunkery,  "  I  '11  drop  him  a 
note." 

So  saying,  he  sat  down  to  the  table  and  wrote  a 
brief  note  to  the  President,  telling  him  Perceval  was 
taken  suddenly  ill  and  wanted  to  see  him,  but  it  was 
a  sick  man's  whim  and  he  would  be  all  right  in  the 
morning,  so  he  need  not  trouble  himself  to  come.  He 
thrust  the  note  into  his  pocket,  where  he  found  it 
about  a  week  afterward.  The  note  completed, he  con-, 
tinued  writing,  and  brought  to  Perceval  a  page  which 
he  read  over  to  him. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?"  asked  Perce- 
val in  an  assumed  feeble  voice,  for  he  was  already 
feeling  some  relief. 

"  O,  it 's  well  to  have  it  in  a  shape  to  use.  You 
want  to  sign  your  name  to  it  in  presence  of  a  witness. 
I've  made  an  affidavit  of  it.  Here's  my  clerk;  lie's 
a  notary  public;"  and,  before  Perceval  fairly  realized 
it,  he  had  affixed  his  name  to  the  paper. 

"Perhaps  you  '11  be  better  in  the  morning,"  said 
Bunkery,  taking  his  departure. 

Gradually  comprehending  what  he  had  done,  Per- 


216  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

ceval  was  terribly  excited  by  the  thought  of  the  possi- 
ble use  which  might  be  made  of  the  paper  and  the 
probable  consequences  to  himself  of  Brewster's  wrath. 
But,  luckily,  this  threw  him  into  a  perspiration, 
and  wrought  so  favorable  a  turn  in  his  attack,  that  he 
soon  afterward  dropped  off  to  sleep,  to  wake  so  much 
better  that  the  second  day  he  was  on  his  feet  again. 
Leaving  his  credentials  as  minister  to  Honolulu  to  be 
sent  after  him,  he  lost  no  time  in  getting  away  from 
the  capital. 


AN  INTERESTING  DISPATCH.  217 


CHAPTEK  XXII. 

AN  INTERESTING  DISPATCH. 

IT  was  just  a  week  after  Perceval's  repentance,  and 
past  ten  o'clock  at  night,  that  President  Brewster  sat 
writing  with  customary  vigor  and  industry.  The  door 
noiselessly  opened  and  the  signs  of  disturbance  in  the 
usually  disciplined  face  and  well  modulated  voice  of 
Danforth,  his  private  secretary,  at  once  attracted  his 
attention. 

"  What  is  it,  Lawrence?  "  asked  he. 

"  It  is  all  out,"  said  Lawrence  in  a  low  and  serious 
tone,  "  it  will  be  in  the  papers  to-morrow." 

"  There  must  be  something  in  the  papers  every  day," 
said  Brewster,  with  the  nonchalant  air  he  always  as- 
sumed when  much  disturbed." 

"  It 's  gone  all  to  pieces,"  said  Lawrence.  '•'  The 
Judiciary  Committee  are  in  possession  of  the  story." 

Straightening  himself  in  his  chair,  Brewster  said 
calmly : 

"  Tell  me  about  it." 

"  I.  ran  up  stairs  at  the  telegraph  office  this  evening 
to  see  Shaw — an  old  chum  of  mine,  we  were  operators 
together  at  Cleveland — and  I  heard  them  rattling  off 
a  dispatch  to  the  '  K  Y.  Planet.'  While  talking  with 
Shaw  I  quietly  took  off  the  dispatch." 


218  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

Lawrence,  producing  a  scrap  of  short-hand  manu- 
script, proceeded  to  read  to  Brewster  what  purported 
to  be  the  substance  of  information  that  Mr.  Bunkery 
had  laid  before  the  committee.  It  was  Perceval's  af- 
fidavit that,  having  gone  to  write  a  note  at  Lawrence's 
table  behind  the  screen  in  Brewster's  office  the  night 
the  cipher  dispatch  was  received,  he  suddenly  found 
himself  overhearing  portions  of  a  conversation  be- 
tween Brewster  and  Danforth.  The  affidavit  also  re- 
peated all  of  this  conversation  he  was  able  to  hear  or 
remember;  but  Mr.  Bunkery,  for  the  time  being,  with- 
held this  part  of  the  evidence.  Lawrence  then  recited 
the  remainder  of  the  "Planet"  dispatch,  as  follows: 

"  After  presenting  his  documents,  Mr.  Bunkery  fa- 
vored immediate  action.  The  President,  he  under- 
stood, was  about  betraying  his  party,  by  defeating  its 
great  national  measure.  He  '  had  gone  over  to  the 
other  side.'  '  He  '11  make  yon  a  Fourth  of  July  oration 
on  the  first  of  January,  if  there 's  anything  to  be  made 
out  of  it,'  said  Mr.  Bunkery. 

•     "'Won't  it  hurt  the  party?'  said  a  cautious  mem- 
ber from  New  York. 

"  '  It  can  't  hurt  the  party  worse  than  he 's  hurting 
it,'  said  Mr.  Bunkery,  '  I  've  been  trying  this  six 
months  to  get  my  man  into  the  pension  bureau,  but 
Brewster  won't  budge.  Then  there 's  the  postmaster 
at  Injannerville — he 's  sold  out  to  Byles,  and  I  've 
been  going  for  him;  but  you  'd  think  he  'd  been  driven 
in  with  a  pile-driver.  The  party  -in  Injanner  's  all 
broken  up  with  this  fooling.  I  don't  believe  you  could 
carry  a  single  district  to-day ! J 


AN  INTERESTING  DISPATCH.  219 

"  Other  members  present  had  some  complaint  of 
this  sort  to  make,  and  it  was  agreed  that  so  far  from 
hurting  the  party,  it  will  '  brace  it  up.'  One  member, 
just^appointed  by  the  governor  from  the  seventh  Wis- 
consin district,  in  place  of  Darth,  deceased,  and  who 
is  only  an  amateur  politician,  innocently  inquired: 

"  '  How  will  it  affect  the  country — especially  busi- 
ness?' 

"  Some  members  frowned,  others  smiled,  at  this  ab- 
surd speech,  and  Mr.  Bunkery  objected  to  going  off  on 
to  side  issues.  'Let  us  stick  to  the  main  question,' 
said  he;  so,  after  an  agreement  that  the  proceedings 
should  for  the  present  be  kept  secret,  the  committee 
adjourned." 

Lawrence,  having*  finished  his  notes,  looked  up  in- 
quiringly at  President  Brewster.  Drawing  a  long 
breath,  indicative  of  the  interest  he  had  taken  in  the 
account,  the  latter  replied,  almost  carelessly: 

"JMighty  interesting  reading  that!  Enterprising 
paper — the  '  Planet.'  I  wonder  how  much  of  it  is 
true." 

"  It  comes  pretty  straight,"  replied  Danforth.  "  I 
stopped  at  Newspaper  Row  and  saw  Sidney.  I  told 
him  frankly  I  knew  all  about  his  dispatch  to  the  '  Plan- 
et,' and  wanted  him'  to  tell  me  if  it  was  authentic.  At 
first  he  was  not  inclined  to  say  anything;  but  he  's  in- 
debted to  me  for  a  good  many  favors,  and  he  finally 
admitted  .that  he  had  obtained  his  information  directly 
from  a  member  of  the  committee,  but  declined  saying 
which  one.  '  It  was  a  secret  session,  you  understand,' 
said  he,  and  laughed. 


220  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"  I  've  been  afraid  it  would  come  to  this  some  time," 
added  Lawrence,  after  a  pause.  "  He  ought  to  have 
been  sent  out  of  the  country." 

"  I  could  not  get  him  out  of  the  country,"  replied 
Brewster;  "and  by  giving  him  a  good  position,  for 
which  I  've  been  abused  and  ridiculed,  I  tried  to  make 
it  for  his  interest  to  keep  his  dreams  and  vagaries  to 
himself.  As  it  was,  I  had  to  threaten  him  before  he 
would  consent  to  put  the  ocean  between  us.  Then  he 
was  taken  ill,  and,  I  presume,  frightened  into  this  wild 
talk.  Sooner  or  later,  it  would  have  happened.  Fools 
of  his  sort  are  like  a  bad  piece  of  plumbing,  that  is 
sure  to  leak  when  the  pressure  is  great  enough.  I  have 
done  my  best  to  prevent  the  pressure,  but  in  this  in- 
stance, as  luck  would  have  it,  it  got  beyond  my  con- 
trol." 

"  I  took  Owen,  the  Associated  Press  man,  to  Bunk- 
ery,"  continued  Lawrence,  "  and  told  Bunkery  there 
were  rumors  of  his  having  instigated  the  Judiciary 
Committee  to  considering  the  propriety  of  investigat- 
ing the  President.  Bunkery  put  on  his  superbest  airs 
and  gave  an  extra  toss  to  his  hair  and  said  it  was 
idle  gossip;  the  committee  had  taken  no  action. 
Thereupon  Owen  sent  a  dispatch  denying  the  rumors. 
I  thought  this  would  break  the  force  of  Sidney's  dis- 
patch and  give  us  time  to  breathe." 

"Quite  right!  quite  right!"  said  Brewster  warmly, 
adding,  "  I  feel  more  thankful  than  surprised,  for  I 
always  have  a  large  confidence  in  your  doing  the 
right  thing  at  the  right  time,  Lawrence." 

Flushed  with  this  praise  and  with  a  mixture  of  the 


AN  INTERESTING  DISPATCH. 


admiration  and  gratitude  he  always  had  for  Brewster, 
the  young  secretary  bade  him  good  night.  He  had  to 
admit  to  himself  that  the  prospect  looked  somewhat 
dismal,  but  his  faith  in  his  chief's  wits  and  resources 
was  almost  fanatical,  and  he  trusted  that  they  would 
be  found  equal  to  rescuing  »their  proprietor  from  all 
embarrassments. 

Brewster  did  not  return  to  his  work,  but  sat  medi- 
tating for  more  than  half  an  hour.  Then  he  thrust 
the  sheets  of  his  manuscript  into  his  portfolio,  and, 
after  writing  and  addressing  a  note,  retired  to  his  bed- 
room. In  spite  of  his  apparent  calmness  he  had 
scarcely  ever  been  so  agitated,  and  he  heard  the 
matins  of  the  birds  before  he  closed  his  eyes. 

Of  physical  fear  he  knew  little.  Battles,  mobs,  as- 
sassins, riots  were  only  tempest  and  lightning— very 
disagreeable,  but  rarely  harmful.  But  to  be  without 
a  party  majority,  to  be  abandoned  of  partisans,  was  to 
be  weak  and  miserable  indeed.  Having  learned  to 
swim  with  the  corks  and  life-preservers  of  success,  he 
was  appalled  at  finding  himself  wallowing  without 
them  in  a  soundless  sea.  Whatever  the  legal  "weight 
of  the  case  and  evidence  against  him,  the  vote  of 
guilty  would  probably  command  the  party  strength, 
with  enough  votes  from  the  other  side,  to  depose  him. 
Once  upon  a  time  three  senators  dared  to  vote  in 
deference  to  the  law  and  the  testimony,  and  were  de- 
nounced as  worse  "traitors"  than  the  President  they 
refused  to  remove.  By  loudly  joining  in  the  outcry 
against  them,  Brewster  had  helped  educate  the  people 
down  to  this  doctrine,  and  now,  like  Robespierre, 


222  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

faced  the  guillotine  that  had  shed  the  blood  of  his 
victims.  Before  he  went  to  sleep,  however,  he  had 
determined  upon  his  plan  of  action. 


A  MERE  NEWSPAPER  SENSATION.  223 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A  MERE  NEWSPAPER  SENSATION. 

CONGRESSMAN  BUNKEKY  was  not  a  little  surprised 
next  morning  at  receiving  a  request  to  call  on  the 
President  at  his  earliest  convenience.  Like  many  an- 
other politician  he  disliked  coming  to  close  quarters 
with  Brewster,  who  had  an  ugly  way  of  carrying  on  a 
personal  conflict.  The  President  bade  him  be  seated, 
and  without  preliminaries  said: 

"  I  see  by  the  paper  that  your  name  is  prominent- 
ly associated  with  a  scheme  of  investigation,"  based 
chiefly  on  the  report  that  I  intended  vetoing  your  bill, 
and  on  a  cock-and-bull  story  imposed  on  you  by  a  man 
in  such  a  condition  of  mind  and  body  as  to  be  wholly 
unaccountable." 

Bunkery  fidgeted,  and  said  the  rumor  had  been  de- 
nied. • 

"  O,  of  course,"  said  Brewster.  "  I  knew  it  was 
only  a  newspaper  'sensation,  gotten  up  by  fellows 
whose  pay  depends  on  their  furnishing  their  employ- 
ers with  saleable  wares.  The  leader  of  the  House  of 
Representatives  would  not,  of  course,  take  any  steps  of 
the  kind,  without  ascertaining  the  truth  of  such  ru- 
mors. There  is  my  answer  to  them!" 


224  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

To  Bunkery's  astonishment  the  President  showed 
him  his  currency  bill  with  the  presidential  signature 
attached. 

"  I  'm  very  glad  to  see  it,"  stammered  Bunkery,  "  I 
had  heard  the  rumors,  but  did  not  credit  them.'" 

"That  is  false!  "said  Brewster  to  himself,  adding 
aloud:  "  As  to  personal  matters,  I  am  the  most  oblig- 
ing of  men.  I  hear  you  're  not  satisfied  with  ap- 
pointments in  the  Pension  Bureau;  it  is  only  a  mis- 
understanding. There  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why 
satisfactory  arrangements  shouldn't  be  made.  A 
larger  force  is  required,  and  anything  wanted  by  our 
people  in  Congress  needs  only  to  be  spoken  of,  and 
it  is  at  their  service.  Perceval  is  not  always  responsi- 
.ble  for  what  he  says,  and  besides,  I  have,  as  3^011  know, 
already  removed  him.  I  '11  put  your  man  Cranage — 
that  is  the  name  I  think— in  his  place  at  the  head  of 
the  Bureau.  He  is  competent,  is  he  not?  " 

"  O  yes,"  said  Bunkery,  "  he 's  one  of  our  best 
workers." 

"  Failed  in  business  two  or  three  times,  I  under- 
stand," said  Brewster  sympathetically. 

"  Yes,"  said  Bunkery,  "  and  the  last  was  a  very  bad 
one.  He 's  been  very  unfortunate  and  deserves  a  great 
deal  of  sympathy  and  help.  I  do  n't  know  of  any- 
body more  deserving  of  a  good  snug  berth  than  Cran- 
age." 

"Some  squeamish  people  might  object  to  such 
claims  for  so  responsible  a  position,"  said  Brewster, 
"  but  in  great  national  emergencies  you  cannot  con- 
sult old  maids'  whims." 


A  MERE  NEWSPAPER  SENSATION.  225 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  the  Congressman,  emphati- 
cally. 

"  There  is  your  man  Aiken,  in  whom  I  hear  you  take 
a  great  deal  of  interest.  I  suppose  you'd  consent  to 
having  him  advanced?  though  they  tell  a  story  about 
him — very  likely  it  is  not  true,  but  it  ought  to  be 
looked  into.  They  say  he  first  appeared  some  time 
after  his  appointment  and  asked  the  way  to  the  Pension 
Bureau.  lie  said  he  had  come  to  draw  his  pay.  You 
had  better  speak  to  him,  I  think,  and  have  him  attend 
to  business.  People  have  prejudices  about  such  mat- 
ters, and  we  must  consult  them." 

"  He  's  not  a  man  to  be  spoken  to,"  said  Bunkery. 
"He  can  chip  the  shell  off  the  end  of  an  egg  with  a 
pistol-ball !  He  says  he 's  open  to  persuasion  and*  con- 
ciliation, but  you  can  't  coerce  him  a  d cent's 

worth!  However,  I  '11  do  my  best! " 

"Do  so!  As  to  the  postmastership  in  Injanner- 
ville,  we  '11  arrange  that  to  suit  you.  If  there  is  any- 
thing else  that  can  be  done  to  accommodate  you  or 
our  friends  in  the  Senate  or  House,  let  them  know  and 
let  me  know." 

"Thank  you!"  said  Congressman  Bunkery,  "I 
shall  be  very  happy  to  give  these  assurances  to  our 
friends.  There 's  nothing  our  people  so  much  desire 
as  a  restoration  of  harmony  within  the  party.  They 
were  feeling  deeply  grieved  at  even  the  mere  rumor 
of  a  collision  with  the  administration." 

"  I  should  have  been  very  sorry,"  said  Brewster. 
"Tell  them  to  be  more  cautious  about  trusting  ru- 
mors, but  come  to  headquarters,  as  you  did,  and  find 
15 


226  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

out  for  themselves!  I  suppose  you  will  have  to  yield 
to  popular  clamor  and  set  up  an  investigation." 

"  It  has  gone  so  far  now,"  said  Bunkery,  "  I  sup- 
pose we  must." 

"  Well,"  said  Brewster,  solemnly,  "  be  sure  you  let 
no  guilty  man  escape!" 

With  difficulty  Bunkery  refrained  from  smiling,  but 
as  Brewster  never  had  the  bad  taste  to  laugh  at  his 
own  jokes,  the  congressman  was  forced  to  respect  the 
perfect  gravity  with  which  these  time-honored  words 
were  repeated. 

They  bade  each  other  good-day,  and  after  the  con- 
gressman had  retired,  Brewster,  taking  several  pages 
of  manuscript  from  his  portfolio  and  reading  them 
with  apparent  interest,  threw  them  into  the  fire,  say- 
ing, with  a  sigh,  "  There  goes  one  of  the  most  effect- 
ive pieces  of  work  I  ever  turned  out." 

On  further  reflection,  Bunkery  saw  and  was  eager 
to  undo  his  error  in  making  public  his  interesting 
budget,  instead  of  coming  to  direct  terms  with  the 
President  first. 

The  "  Injanner  "  legislature  was  on  the  eve  of  a  ses- 
sion, at  which  a  United  States  senator  was  to  be  chosen, 
and,  in  order  to  win  that  prize,  he  was  desperate  to  secure 
every  advantage  and  employ  every  resource.  Cran- 
age's influence  was  of  supreme  importance,  and  Cran- 
age's influence  could  be  had  only  by  giving  Cranage 
an  office;  and  Cranage's  office  hung  upon  Bunkery 's 
success  in  checking  the  proposed  investigation  which, 
in  a  moment  of  haste,  he  had  set  going.  He,  there- 
fore, girded  himself  to  the  task  of  countermining  his 
own  mine  and  circumventing  his  own  strategy. 


DETECTING  THE  GUILTY.  227 


CHAPTER   XXIY. 

DETECTING  THE  GUILTY. 

UPON  the  strength  of  the  hints  which  Bunkery  had 
thrown  out,  and  which  were  published  in  the  "  New 
York  Planet,"  the  celebrated  Bunkery  committee  for 
the  investigation  of  "  the  Idaho  fraud,"  was  duly  ap- 
pointed and  began  its  sessions. 

To  the  surprise  of  everybody,  Bnnkery's  burning 
zeal  had  cooled  like  hot  sealing-wax.  He  not  only  re- 
fused to  offer  his  own  evidence,  but  he  afforded  nobody 
else  an  opportunity  of  offering  any.  The  conjectures 
as  to  this  change  in  his  mood  failed  to  explain  it,  and 
the  whole  investigation  seemed  on  the  point  of  break- 
ing down,  when  suddenly  Mr.  Rodney — the  postscript 
to  whose  letter,  as  we  remember,  once  beguiled  Brew- 
ster  sadly,  and  who  represented  the  minority  of  the 
committee — requested  that  Mr.  Leonard  Carroll  be 
summoned  as  a  witness. 

"  He 's  in  Europe,  and  it  will  cost  too  much,"  ob- 
jected Mr.  Bunkery.  "  What  is  the  nature  of  his  tes- 
timony?" 

"  Call  him  and  see ! "  said  Rodney.  "  He  is  in  New 
York.  I  will  give  you  his  address." 

Much  against  his  will  Bunkery  complied;  and  Car- 


228  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

roll  appeared,  flushed  with  health  and  balmy  in  de- 
portment. Without  preface,  he  began  his  testimony: 
"  On  my  arrival  in  New  York,  about  a  month  ago," 
said  he,  "  I  read  a  dispatch  from  this  city  which  pre- 
tended to  hint  at  some  revelations  made  by  Mr.  Augus- 
tus Perceval  in  regard  to  certain  important  informa- 
tion of  which  he  claimed  to  be  possessed,  and  which, 
it  was  said,  had  been  laid  before  the  judiciary  commit- 
tee. I  was  at  once  reminded  of  a  letter  which,  on 
reaching  this  side  a  few  clays  before,  I  had  found  in 
my  trunk.  It  is  addressed,"  he  said,  taking  it  out  of 
his  pocket,  "  to  one  'James  Ashton,'  and  has  on  it  the 
imprint  of  the  United  States  Consulate  at  London." 
Then,  handing  it  to  Mr.  Bunkery,  he  continued: 
"  The  seal  is  still  unbroken.  I  know  nothing  of  its 
contents,  but  I  have  reason  to  believe  they  are  of  great 
interest  and  importance.  The  letter  came  accidentally 
into  my  possession,  though  by  what  exact  means  I 
can  only  conjecture.  All  I  know  about  it  can  be  briefly 
told.  About  four  months  ago,  as  I  was  stepping 
into  my  banker's  in  London — Rosefield,  Barton  and 
Company,  No.  10  Bartholomew  Lane,  opposite  the 
Bank  of  England — I  met  an  Englishman  coming  out. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  baggy  Tweed  suit,  had  side- 
whiskers,  hair  parted  in  the  middle,  and  an  eye-glass 
screwed  into  his  eye.  His  face  seemed  dimly  famil- 
iar, and,  in  answer  to  my  inquiries,  Mr.  Rosefield  said 
he  lived  in  Sussex;  that  Mr.  Starkey,  United  States 
consul-general — formerly  a  confidential  clerk  of  Pres- 
ident Brewster — had  introduced  him.  There  had  been 
a  matter  of  several  thousand  pounds  between  the  two 


DETECTING  THE  GUILTY.  229 

in  a  Liverpool  grain  speculation,  said  Mr.  Rosefield. 
On  their  first  visit  to  the  bank,  young  Rosefield,  the 
cashier,  happened  to  encounter  them  on  the  stairs,  just 
as  Ashton  was  saying,  '  The  longest  way  'round  is  the 
shortest  way  home;  for  my  part  I  like  the  San  Fran- 
cisco route  best.'  Then  they  both  laughed,  while  Star- 
key  replied,  'An  Englishman  always  gets  badly  mixed 
on  American  geography;'  at  which  they  laughed 
again. 

"The  next  day,"  continued  Carroll,  "I  called  upon 
Mr.  Starkey  at  the  American  Consulate,  and  after  a 
few  common-places,  said  suddenly: 

" '  By  the  way,  I  met  a  friend  of  yours  the  other 
day.' 

"  '  Ah! '  answered  Mr.  Starkey. 

" '  Yes,  Ashton.' 

"  'Ashton,  Ashton! '  said  Starkey,  ruminating.  '  I 
may  have  a  bowing  and  scraping  acquaintance  with 
some  one  of  that  name.  Where  did  you  meet  him? ' 
inquired  Mr.  Starkey. 

'"At  Rosefield's  bank,'  said  I;  '  I'm  sorry  to  hear 
you  lost  heavily  in  your  grain  speculation.  It  is  like 
all  gambling.  Better  keep  out  of  it.' 

"  Mr.  Starkey  turned  slightly  away,  then,  yawning, 
rose  and  backed  up  in  front  of  the  fire.  '  My  uncle  in 
Kew  York  is  a  grain  shipper,'  he  said,  languidly.  '  I 
did  some  routine  business  with  one  or  two  of  his  cus- 
tomers for  him  soon  after  I  came  over.  But  that  was 
three  years  ago,  and  I  have  forgotten  their  names. 
United  States  consuls  are  forbidden  by  law  to  transact 
business,  you  know.' 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


"  I  left  him,"  Carroll  went  on,  "  wondering  what  it 
all  meant.  The  familiarity  of  the  Englishman's  face 
haunted  me.  I  could  not  give  up  thinking  about  it 
and  trying  to  identify  it.  Suddenly  I  thought  I  had 
recalled  it,  and  cabled  to  New  York  for  an  illustrated 
paper  of  a  particular  date,  which  I  subsequently  re- 
ceived. Some  time  elapsed  before  I  met  Ashton  again, 
and  the  meeting  occurred  at  the  bank.  Mr.  Eosefieid 
introduced  us,  saying  to  me,  '  The  gentleman  you 
were  speaking  of.' 

"Ashton  started  a  little  at  this,  but,  recovering 
himself,  sat  down  to  write.  Taking  a  chair  near  him, 
I  made  a  close  study  of  his  face.  I  noticed  particu- 
larly that  the  bluish  tinge. of  a  closely  shaven  beard 
ran  high  upon  his  cheek-bones,  denoting  a  very  heavy 
growth  of  whiskers.  Then  taking  from  my  pocket 
the  copy  of  the  illustrated  paper,  I  laid  it  down  in 
front  of  Ashton  just  as  he  was  signing  a  check.  On 
the  page  in  front  of  him  he  saw  a  cabinet-sized  wood- 
cut portrait  of  a  man  with  short-cropped  or  '  sand- 
papered '  hair,  and  a  long,  heavy  black  beard.  Under- 
neath the  portrait  were  these  words : '  "Wendell  Hawkins, 
the  man  who  made  Aaron  B.  Brewster  President  of 
the  United  States.'  Begging  his  pardon,  I  said  that 
I  thought  there  was  a  curious  resemblance  be- 
tween him  and  the  portrait.  Ashton,  picking  it  up, 
read  the  descriptive  text  accompanying  the  picture, 
and  tossed  it  over  to  Kosefield,  asking  if  he  saw  any 
likeness;  for  his  part  he  couldn't.  Then  he  had  his 
check  cashed  and  went  away;  whereupon  I  asked  to 
see  the  check.  Ashton's  signature  looked  like  that  of 


DETECTING  THE  GUILTY.  231 

'  Stephen  Hopkins,'  the  palsied  signer  of  the  Declar- 
ation of  Independence.  I  showed  it  to  Rosefield,  who 
said:  'The  dickens!  he  must  be  getting  shaky.' 
Next  morning  Mr.  Eosefield  told  me  that  Ashton  had 
taken  out  a  heavy  letter  of  credit,  and  probably  in- 
tended traveling  on  the  continent. 

"  This,"  continued  Carroll,  "  is  all  I  know  of  James 
Ashton.  My  surmise  is  that  this  letter  contains1' — 

Here  Bunkery  objected  and  the  committee  voted, 
five  to  four,  not  to  listen  to  the  surmises  of  the  wit- 
ness; but  allowed  him  to  state  his  conjecture  as  to  the 
way  the  letter  came  into  his  possession. 

"The  post -mark  is  dated  the  day  of  my  call 
upon  the  consul-general,  Mr.  Starkey,"  said  Carroll, 
"  and  if,  Ashton,  were  Hawkins,  as  I  believe  him  to 
be,  he  would  immediately  have  disappeared,  as  he  did, 
on  discovering  my  curiosity  about  him.  I  presume  that 
through  an  oversight  at  the  bank,  the  note  was  put 
with  some  letters  of  introduction  which  were  consign- 
ed to  my  care  and  which  I  placed  in  my  trunk  with- 
out looking  at  them,  until  I  took  them  out  again  on 
this  side  of  the  Atlantic." 

The  minority  of  the  committee  called  for  the  open- 
ing of  the  letter  which  Carroll  had  delivered  up. 
Bunkery  and  the  majority  opposed  it  as  a  violation  of 
the  freedom  of  correspondence,  and  the  subject  was 
finally  referred  to  the  House  of  Representatives  for 
instructions. 

Then  ensued  a  fierce  debate,  in  which  Bunkery  took 
aloud  and  leading  part.  He  opposed  violating  the 
sacredness  of  correspondence.  James  Ashton,  he 


232  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

said,  was  undoubtedly  an  Englishman,  and  the  act 
would  lead  to  grave  international  difficulties. 

At  one  time  Bunkery  would  roar  defiance;  at  an- 
other, as  gently  as  the  sucking  dove,  or  at  least,  what 
passed  for  that.  He  was  perpetually  alert  and  vigorous 
in  his  effort  to  block  the  proceedings  and  bring  the 
whole  affair  to  a  close. 

During  the  debate,  he  was  frequently  taunted  with 
his  inconsistency,  but  he  replied  that  no  sneers  would 
hinder  his  doing  justice  or  opposing  injustice.  He 
was  now  convinced  that  he  had  been  deceived;  in  any 
event,  he  would  not,  even  to  gain  a  righteous  end,  be 
guilty  of  employing  disreputable  means  like  the  break- 
ing open  of  a  letter. 

But  one  day,  after  a  prolonged  conference  with  Dan- 
forth,  his  tone  suddenly  changed,  and  he  proposed  as 
an  amendment  to  the  resolution  before  the  house, 
that  the  minority  should,  under  protest,  and  pro- 
vided they  would  take  the  whole  responsibility,  be  al- 
lowed to  open  the  letter.  He  said  that  the  high  of- 
ficial whose  honor  and  integrity  were  supposed  to  be 
involved  in  the  contents  of  the  letter  had  requested 
that  his  friends  should  not  oppose  this  suggestion.  He 
was  so  conscious  of  his  entire  innocence,  and  so  con- 
fident that  no  conspiracy  or  combination  of  circum- 
stances could  possibly  compromise  him,  that  he  chal- 
lenged his  enemies  to  bring  any  evidence  in  the  letter 
to  light. 

Thereupon,  without  further  delay,  the  resolution  was 
passed  and,  after  three  weeks  of  intermission,  the 
Bunkery  committee  resumed  its  sessions. 


DETECTING  THE  GUILTY.  233 

It  was  an  exciting  moment  when  the  now  famous 
letter  was  placed  in  Mr.  Rodney's  hands. 

The  tearing  of  the  envelope  and  the  rustling  of  the 
contents  could  be  heard  in  every  part  of  the  crowded 
room.  The  members  of  the  committee,  the  reporters, 
and  the  spectators  bent  eagerly  forward,  watching  each 
movement  in  the  process. 

Mr.  Rodney  unfolded  the  letter:  gazed  at  it;  looked 
bewildered;  turned  it  over;  looked  at  the  back  and 
then  at  the  inside  again. 

It  was  a  Uaiik  sheet  of  paper. 

The  majority  of  the  committee  laughed.  Some  of 
the  spectators  cheered,  one  of  them  in  a  paroxysm 
of  triumph  throwing  his  hat  to  the  ceiling. 

"The  chairman  of  the  committee  has  had  this  let- 
ter in  his  possession  three  weeks,  "  said  Rodney,  "  and 
this  trick  might  have  been  played  in  three  minutes.  " 
But  Mr.  Bunkery,  who  seemed  as  much  astonished  as 
anybody  at  the  turn  which  the  affair  had  taken,  arose 
greatly  excited  and  resented  the  imputation.  "The 
probabilities  are,"  he  said,  "  that  the  gentleman  on 
the  other  side  have  manufactured  the  alleged  paper  out 
of  whole  cloth." 

"  Paper  is  made  out  of  rags  not  of  whole  cloth," 
said  Rodney  jocosely. 

"  I  am  in  no  mood  for  joking,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Bunk- 
ery in  the  full  volume  of  his  bass-tones. 

"  Nor  am  I,"  replied  Rodney,  "  at  least  for  practi- 
cal jokes  like  this." 

Then  suddenly  he  lit  the  gas  and  held  the  paper  in 
front  of  the  flame. 


234  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

Not  a  mark  appeared  upon  its  virgin  surface. 

"  No  sympathetic  ink  there!"  laughed  Bunker y,  at 
which  the  spectators  cheered  again. 

"The  blank  paper  may  have  had  all  the  significance 
of  a  written  one,"  said  Rodney.  "  It  may  have  been 
a  pre-arranged  signal  and  full  of  meaning." 

"  There  is  room  for  a  thousand  conjectures,  but  no 
proof,"  said  Bnnkery,  who  maintained  that  as  a  fun- 
damental axiom  of  government  a  politician  should 
never  be  suspected,  unless  the  proof  against  him  were 
adequate  to  his  conviction  of  the  crime  of  murder,  be- 
fore a  jury ;  or  unless  he  belonged  to  the  other  party. 

Mr.  Lawrence  Danforth  was  the  next  witness. 

He  testified  that,  his  health  being  greatly  broken 
by  the  labors  of  the  summer,  he  wrent  to  Idaho  after 
the  election,  for  rest  and  a  change  of  air.  After 
a  long  and  harassing  examination,  and,  in  spite  of  his 
adroitness  and  quickness  of  wit,  Lawrence  had  to  ad- 
mit that,  while  there,  he  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Wendell  Hawkins,  and  that  he  found  him  not  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  doctrines  of  the  party  which  elected  him. 
He  therefore  suggested  to  Hawkins  the  propriety  of 
his  voting  in  accordance  with  his  convictions. 

"Did  you  offer  him  any  pecuniary  inducement?" 
asked  Rodney". 

"  I  might  have  said  it  would  be  for  his  advantage." 

"  What  did  you  mean  by  that?  " 

"At  this  distance  of  time  I  cannot  tell  exactly." 

"Did  you  offer  him  $50,000  or  any  other  sum?" 

"  I  may  have  mentioned  such  a  sum." 

"Did  you  expect  to  pay  it  out  of  your  own  pocket?" 


DETECTING  THE  GUILTY.  235 

"No.  If  I  offered  him  any  money  at  all  I 
Lad  no  idea  where  it  was  to  come  from." 

"You  trusted  in  Providence,  or  in  Elijah's  ravens, 
or  to  your  finding  it  along  the  road,  or  under  a  tree," 
blandly  suggested  Mr.  Kodney. 

Here  Mr.  Bunkery  objected  to  anybody's  insulting  a 
witness  merely  because  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  do  so; 
it  was  unmanly. 

"  Did  President  Brewster  know  anything  of  your 
sublime  and  child-like  faith  in  the  fairies,  or  Aladdin's 
wonderful  lamp?"  asked  Kodney,  heedless  of  Bimk- 
ery's  interruption. 

"  I  do  not  understand  your  oriental  metaphors,"  said 
Lawrence. 

"  Then  I  '11  try  the  western  dialect.  Did  President 
Brewster  know  of  your  hint  to  Hawkins  that,  by  cast- 
ing his  vote  for  Brewster,  he  would  strike  '  pay  dirt ' 
as  soon  as  he  had  staked  out  his  claim?" 

"No,"  said  Lawrence,  emphatically.  "Never!  If 
I  had  dared  mention  it,  he -would  have  dismissed  me 
in  disgrace  from  his  service." 

"  Do  you  suppose  when  he  sees  your  present  testi- 
mony he  will  dismiss  you  from  his  service  ?" 

Again  Mr.  Bunkery  interposed.  It  was  an  improper 
question,  and  the  committee  by  a  vote  of  five  to  four 
declined  to  have  the  question  answered,  and  Danforth 
retired.  * 

Mr.  Eodney  had  previously  requested  that  Augus- 
tus Perceval  be  summoned,  but  the  committee  by  a 
vote  of  five  to  four  decided  that  his  affidavit  forwarded 
from  San  Francisco  would  be  sufficient,  and  the  docu- 
ment was  accordingly  read  by  Bunkery. 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


Perceval  averred  that,  whereas,  he  had  been  quoted 
as  having,  on  a  certain  occasion,  made  statements  in- 
volving the  integrity  and  honor  of  the  President,  he 
now  affirmed  that  to  the  best  of  his  present  knowledge 
and  belief  his  statements  were  untrue;  that  he  was 
the  victim  of  hallucinations  due  to  great  mental  ex- 
citement which  was  caused  by  a  sudden  and  severe  ill- 
ness; that  his  mind  was  wandering  and  he  had  nc 
recollection  of  the  preposterous  assertions  accredited 
to  him. 

At  this  Rodney  and  his  friends  laughed ;  whereupon 
Bunkery  solemnly  observed  that  only  a  deplorable 
lack  of  sensibility,  he  was  going  to  say  of  common 
humanity,  would  find  sport  or  mirth  in  the  saddest 
calamity  which  could  befall  the  human  mind;  and  at 
this,  Rodney  and  his  "  gang,"  as  Bunkery  in  his  anger 
called  them,  laughed  again. 

Brewster  confided  his  own  belief  in  his  innocence 
to  young  Sidney,  the  correspondent  of  "  The  Planet," 
who  "  interviewed  him  for  the  purpose.  "  If  he  ever 
did  give  anybody  fifty  thousand  dollars,  he  made  it 
plain  in  this  interview,  that  he  could  deny  as  well  as 
give.  For  he  denied  the  whole  of  it. 

He  knew  nothing  of  any  schemes  of  the  sort.  Those 
engaged  in  them  knew  better  than  to  approach  him. 
His  indignant  refusal  to  sanction  fraud  by  buying  the 
State  offered  him  a  few  days  after  the  election,  proved 
the  kind  of  welcome  he  would  have  given  to  any  cor- 
rupt proposal. 

But  even  if  the  charge  were  true,  he  said,  the  public 
sensitiveness  in  regard  to  it  was  amusing.  One  would 


DETECTING  THE  GUILTY.  237 

imagine  that  public  offices  in  this  country  had  never 
been  bartered  before;  that  the  practice  of  paying  a 
man  for  putting  you  in  this  office,  by  putting  him  in 
that  one,  was  a  complete  novelty.  Even  if  the  charge 
were  true,  what  had  he  done?  Instead  of  rewarding 
Hawkins,  at  the  expense  of  the  public,  with  the  salary 
of  a  foreign  mission  worth  twelve  or  fifteen  thousand 
dollars  a  year,  he  had  merely  paid  that  sum  to  him  out 
of  his  own  pocket;  and  these  people,  now  so  indignant  at 
this  offense,  would  have  submitted  without  a  murmur  to 
the  other  scandal.  Why  set  up  such  moonshine  distinc- 
tions between  paying  cash  out  of  your  own  pocket, 
and  paying  it  out  of  the  public  treasury?  He  hated 
these  fine-spun"  moralists  and  detested  their  hypocrisy. 

"  It  was  defense  enough,"  he  said,  "  merely  to  call 
attention  to  the  '  record '  of  some  of  those  loudest  in 
this  crusade  against  him.  Who  were  they  ?  Some  of 
them  were  men  who,  in  the  days  of  the  country's 
agony,  either  stood  contemptuously  aside  refusing  to 
help  her,  or  took  up  arms  against  her.  Must  a  man 
who  stood  by  the  flag  in  those  dark  days  intrust  his 
reputation  to  rebels  and  rebel  sympathizers?  Are  his 
patriotism  and  loyality  to  count  for  nothing?  When 
men  are  being  murdered  for  their  political  opinions 
is  it  a  time  to  divide  party  counsels,  slander  a  public 
functionary,  and  scandalize  his  administration  in  this 
outrageous  manner?" 

"How  shall  we  appear  in  the  eyes  of  Europe?"  he 
continued.  "  What  encouragement  this  will  give  to 
the  despotisms  and  monarchs  of  the  old  world !  What 
a  proclamation  of  our  own  disgrace  to  treat  such  foul 


238  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

accusations  and  such  disloyal  accusers  with  any  seri- 
ousness! If  public  servants  are  to  be  subjected  to 
persecutions  like  this,  honorable  men  will  no  longer 
seek  office.  He  was  alarmed  at  the  rapid  growth  in 
this  country  of  a  libelous  and  reviling  spirit.  One 
would  imagine  the  Government  to  be  an  absolute  des- 
potism tempered  by  slander.  As  for  himself  he  was 
safe  from  these  shafts  of  malice.  He  was  protected  by 
an  armor  of  conscious  innocence  against  these  stings 
of  spite  and  hate. " 

Bunkery's  report,  representing  five  of  the  commit- 
tee, and  by  the  other  side  briefly  described  as  a  "  white- 
washing document,"  also  treated  with  due  severity 
the  partisan  malice  which  aspersed  the  purest  charac- 
ters. This  upright  executive  was,  at  the  worst,  only 
the  victim  of  excessive  zeal  displayed  in  his  behalf,  etc. 

The  minority  report,  representing  four  of  the  com- 
mittee, said  that  the  proof  of  fraud  was  overwhelming 
and  the  nation  which  permitted  such  a  crime  was  past 
saving,  etc. 

The  public  by  this  time  took  little  interest  in  the 
question.  The  next  year  was  the  year  of  the  pres- 
idential election  and,  both  parties  being  engaged  in 
"skirmishing  for  position,"  these  encounters  were 
looked  upon  as  picket-firing,  not  battles. 

"A  licentious  press,"  as  Brewster  called  it,  sug- 
gested that  Danforth's  dismissal  from  the  President's 
service  would  adorn  with  at  least  one  practical  result 
this  absurd  performance. 

"  After  me  is  manners  for  him, "  replied  Brewster 
sneeringly.  "A  curious  notion  of  gratitude  they 


DETECTING  THE  GUILTY.  239 

must  have  !  Here  is  a  young  fellow  who,  with  the  idea 
of  doing  me  a  service,  exposed  himself  to  an  unpleas- 
ant deluge  from  the  windows  of  their  garrets;  and  now 
they  insist  that,  instead  of  taking  him  in  and  drying 
him,  I  shall  close  my  doors  to  him  and  drive  him  away. 
I  learned,  while  I  was  in  the  army,  to  stand  by  my 
soldiers  when  they  were  getting  it  hot  and  heavy;  not 
to  ahandon  them."  And  so,  being  "under  fire,'' 
Lawrence  was  allowed,  if  .not  ordered,  to  stay  ensconced 
under  the  protection  of  the  President. 

Perceval,  tired  of  exile,  stayed  in  the  Sandwich  Is- 
lands long  enough  to  take  the  returning  steamer,  but 
kept  away  from  the  capital  until  the  investigation 
had  closed.  On  his  arrival  he  joined  the  lobby,  but 
remained  religiously  at  a  distance  from  his  distin- 
guished relative  "  at  the  other  end  of  the  avenue." 

Much  to  Mr.  Bunkery's  anxiety  and  disgust,  he 
heard  rumors  that  the  President  had  resolved  to  ap- 
point to  the  place  he  had  demanded  for  Cranage,  a 
thoroughly  competent  person.  This  unwillingness  to 
fulfill  his  bargain  was  confirmed  by  the  dismissal  of 
"  Colonel  "  Aiken  on  account  of  inefficiency  and  bad 
habits.  Bunkery,  eager  for  the  senatorship,  fell  into  a 
rage,  the  serious  consequences  whereof  to  one  humble 
person  in  this  history  may  be  worth  relating. 


240  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTEE   XXY. 

A  PROMISING  ARTIST. 

FKOM  the  day  that  Winifred  Brewster  called  upon 
her  in  Roxbury,  Mrs.  Cleland  had  kept  her  clerkship 
in  "Washington.  She  occupied  a  pretty  cottage  in  the 
suburbs,  which  in  spite  of  the  precariousness  of  her 
position  and  income,  she  had  been  buying  by  install- 
ments. 

All  sensible  employers  desire  their  employes  to 
thrust  as  many  roots  as  possible  into  the  soil;  to  hare 
families  dependent  upon  them  and  to  be  anchored  to 
the  solid  ground  by  its  ownership  in  fee  simple;  for, 
these  are  so  many  bonds  and  sureties  of  a  steadfast 
and  trustworthy  discharge  of  duty. 

Except  in  its  military  and  naval  branches,  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  United  States  is  not  a  sensible  em- 
ployer. Over  the  heads  of  its  employes  it  hangs  a 
sharp  sword  as  by  a  single  hair,  which  at  any  moment 
may  be  cut  by  a  fate  which  no  fidelity  or  industry  of 
the  employed  can  placate  or  withstand.  For  such  is 
the  beneficence  of  J' the  best  government  on  which 
the  sun  ever  shone,  "  that  the  death  or  defeat  of  a  pres- 
ident, senator,  or  congressman,  or  a  change  in  the  popu- 
lar sentiment,  may  be  the  signal  for  an  undoing  of  the 


A  PROMISING  ARTIST.  241 

fortunes  of  those  in  the  Government  service,  akin  to 
that  wrought  by  a  plague  or  a  famine. 

Notwithstanding  its  imprudence,  Mrs.  Cleland  had 
been  tempted  into  partaking  of  the  fruit  which,  by  an 
unwritten  law  more  potent  than  a  statute,  is  forbidden 
to  the  servants  of  the  Government,  and  in  which  they 
indulge  at  their  peril.  But  prudence  was  overcome  by 
her  love  of  natural  beauty;  by  her  feminine  tenderness 
for  plants  and  flowers  and  their  sweet  dependence  upon 
us;  by  the  charm  of  their  growth,  their  perfume  and 
their  color,  with  which  they  reward  nurture  and  solici- 
tude; more  than  all  by  her  motherly  and  womanly 
longing  for  a  home. 

Through  Winifred's  mediation,  moreover,  she  had 
been  one  of  the  few  spared  monuments  of  the  tender 
mercies  shown  by  a  victorious  party  when  a  "  new 
deal"  calls  for  a  "  clean  sweep."  As  the  months  went 
by,  leaving  her,  in  spite  of  the  clamors  of  a  throng, 
unmolested  in  her  office,  she  had  fallen  into  content 
and  comfort,  intensified  by  her  hopeful  joy  in  her  son's 
artistic  promise.  For  him  she  had  already  sacrificed 
many  of  those  adornments  and  gayeties  which  both 
entice  and  befit  pretty  women,  while  her  prospective 
self-denials  in  order  to  send  him,  the  coming  winter,  to 
the  Philadelphia  art  school  were  tinged  only  by  her 
sadness  at  their  next  week's  parting. 

"  "Will  my  boy  remember  his  mother  now  and  then? " 
she  asked,  laying  down  the  winter's  hat  she  was  trim- 
ming, one  crisp  sunny  morning  of  late  November. 
Then  reluctantly  putting  on  her  shawl,  she  stood 
smoothing  out  his  curly  hair  as  he  worked  at  his  easel. 
16 


242  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"  How  can  J  forget  her?"  he  replied,  looking  up  with 
as  much  gratitude  as  his  artist's  interest  in  her  face 
would  permit;  for  he  was  sketching  it  in  his  picture, 
— "  how  can  I  forget  her  when  I  owe  my  very  absence 
to  her  self-sacrifice;"  then  lie  impatiently  added,  "It 
makes  me  hot  and  desperate  sometimes,  thinking  what 
a  helpless  clod  I  am." 

"No,  no,  dear  boy,  I'll  not  hear  that;  think  of 
what  has  been  given,  not  of  what  has  been  denied  you 
— the  power  to  .create  beauty,  to  touch  men's  hearts." 

"  I  'm  glad  to  do  that,"  he  broke  in,  "  but  mere 
smudging  will  quite  as  often  touch  their  pockets,  and 
I  would  like  to  reach  them — at  least  by  way  of  variety." 

"  You  will,  you  will  do  both  "  she  answered  earn- 
estly. "  It 's  irksome  and  slow,  but  it  will  come.  Per- 
fection is  made  up  of  little  things  perfectly  done.  Good- 
bye, dear  boy!"  And,  kissing  him,  she  went  out. 

She  passed  along  the  streets  with  a  satisfaction  she 
had  rarely  known  since  the  brief  happiness  of  her  early 
wedded  life,  and  with  a  sense  of  the  martyr's  delight 
women  find  in  unreservedly  offering  themselves  up  for 
those  they  love.  In  spite  of  toil  and  plain  attire,  in 
spite  of  the  ravages  of  a  congh  announcing  the 
scourge  she  had  inherited,  Adelaide  was  still  comely. 
The  crisp  air,  her  loving  ambition,  and  the  hectic  tint 
adorned  her  with  a  delicate  color,  which,  with  the  re- 
finement of  her  face,  attracted  a  not  unfrequent  glance 
as  she  walked  almost  gaily  down  the  avenue.  Nor  was 
it  the  first  time  she  had  been  the  object  of  looks  and 
remarks  that,  but  for  her  loyalty  to  her  husband's  mem- 
ory, and  her  absorption  in  her  boy's  career,  might  have 
alarmed  or  imperiled  her. 


A  PROMISING  ARTIST. 


Her  heart  beat  quickly  as  she  caught  sight  of  a 
group  staring  into  a  broad-paned  window  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  next  block.  For  the  two  days  such  groups 
had  already  gathered  there,  she  had  thrilled  and  tor- 
tured herself  by  stopping  and  listening  to  their  talk. 
As  she  came  near  this  morning,  she  resolved  to  pass 
on  ;  then,  to  stop,  look,  but  close  her  ears  to  all  com- 
ments. She  ended  by  joining  them,  eager  to  hear 
every  word  in  regard  to  the  object  which  attracted  their 
attention. 

It  was  an  historical  picture.  An  elderly  man,  long 
and  ungainly,  lay  half-stretched  upon  the  grass,  under 
the  trees  which  overshadowed  the  White  House.  He 
was  looking  patiently  through  his  spectacles  at  some 
papers  belonging  to  a  wounded  soldier,  who,  in  shabby 
blue  overcoat  and  with  an  arm  in  a  blood-stained 
sling,  sat  near  him,  seeming  to  seek  his  aid  in  solving 
the  puzzle  of  his  papers.  The  soft  sunlight  filtered 
through  the  trees,  flecking  the  grass,  the  papers,  and 
the  garments.  At  a  short  distance,  a  lad,  apparently 
impatient  with  fche  delay  of  the  tall  man  in  front,  was 
playing  with  a  huge  dog.  Near  by,  and  waiting  for 
an  interview  with  the  elderly  man,  were  a  stout,  well- 
known  figure,  in  the  uniform  of  a  Major-general,  and 
the  almost  equally  Tamous  face  and  contour  of  the  Sec- 
retary of  "War. 

The  drawing  in  the  picture  was  undeniably  bad. 
The  notorious  awkwardness  of  the  tall  man  on  the 
ground  was  exaggerated  by  the  artist's  unskillfulness; 
the  soldier  was  a  little  stiff,  and  the  group  in  the  back- 
ground not  well  proportioned.  Nevertheless  there 


244  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

was  life  and  power  in  it.  It  told  its  simple  story; 
it  portrayed  with  directness  and  vigor  the  strongly- 
marked  and  eminent  forms  and  faces  in  it.  In  the 
President's  face  was  a  look  of  gentleness,  sadness,  suf- 
fering and  sympathy,  perhaps  also  of  the  monrnfulness 
and  despair,  to  which  he  gave  expression  one  day, 
when,  bending  under  his  burden  and  tormented  by 
petty  fault-finding,  he  exclaimed:  "  I  shall  never  be 
gla'i  any  mor&"  There  was  in  the  face,  too,  the 
homely  and  simple  benevolence  which  prompted  him  to 
throw  himself  by  the  side  of  the  wounded  soldier  upon 
the  grass,  and  help  his  perplexity  over  his  discharge 
papers.  There  was  both  the  beauty  and  the  grandeur 
wrapped  in  the  rough  but  hardy  Imsk  of  frontier 
rudeness,  which  was  known  to  immortality  as  Abra- 
ham Lincoln. 

"  The  old  thief  that  stole  my  niggahs, "  exclaimed 
a  dark,  lank  man  in  a  loud  tone  to  the  crowd  that 
was  gazing  into  the  window. 

And  then  "  Colonel  "  Aiken  looked  about  him  with 
that  mingled  air  of  shrewdness  and  effrontery,  where- 
by chanticleer  in  the  cock  of  his  head  during  the 
pause  after  his  lustiest  crow,  estimates  the  effect  of  his 
c-loquence  upon  his  hearers. 

"  Rather  than  have  you  feel  so  bad  about  it,  I  '11  pay 
you  for  them  naow,"  said  the  proprietor  of  an  unmis- 
takable Yankee  twang,  displaying  a  silver  quarter. 

"  How  bad  do  you  s'pose  I  feel  about  it,  sah  ? 
Twenty -five  cents'  wuth  !  That's  a  Yankee's  notion 
of  a  man's  finer  feelings.  I  feel  bad  enough  for  half  a 
column,  sah,  at  regular  local  rates;  an  editorial  notice 


A  PROMISING  ARTIST.  245 

and  a  display  head  'A  confederate  brigadier  demands 
his  rights  under  the  Old  Flag  with  an  Appropriation.' 
That  would  be  the  making  of  me;  "  and  with  a  further 
remark  about  his  projected  high-toned  restaurant  to 
be  opened  next  week,  he  reeled  away. 

Adelaide  remained  listening  to  the  comments  of  the 
other  spectators. 

".If  he  stretches  out  that  foot  6'  his,  he'll  make  a 
rise  in* the  Potomac,"  said  a  newspaper  art-critic, 
squinting  through  his  eye-glass;  at  which  several 
giggled,  and  Mrs.  Cleland  grew  hot  with  anger  and 
chagrin. 

"  Dat's  him  honey,  dat's  him,  suah 's  you'h  bon. 
I  should  a  known  him  a  mile  from  hyar.  I  seen  him 
offen  an'  offen  in  dese  yere  streets.  One  mo'nin'  I 
was  a  totin  clams;  I  was  sich  a  little  gal  I  couldn't 
keep  de  pail  out  ob  de  mud;  'twas  afore  dis  yer  'fault 
pavement — an'  sumbody  kum  along  an'  guv  me  a  lift', 
pail  an'  all,  at  dat  very  corner  dar.  I  was  skeert;  my  ! 
but  was  n't  I  skeert  !  I  kicked,  so  I  nearly  kicked 
out  ob  his  a'ms;  foh  suah  !  An'  den  you  orter  heercl 
him  laff.  '  Golly,  mas,'  sez  I, '  I  tot  it  was  one  o' 
dem  critter  soldiers  a  pickin'  me  up  for  to  tote  me 
down  to  secesh.'  An'  den  he  laff  agin,  not  a  big 
buck-laff,  but  a  lafflike  de  tuttles;  ye  know  all  about 
de  v'ice  ob  de  tuttles,  honey?  Dat  was  him;  Mas' 
Linkum." 

"Mas'  Linkum!"  exclaimed  her  companion  in  a 
tone  of  awe. 

"  Yes,  Mas'  Linkum  !  honey.  I  seed  him  wid  dese 
yer  eyes,  an'  I  teched  him  wid  dese  yer  han's ;  an  arter 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


dat,  I  seen  him  often  an'  offen.  An'  many  's  de  night 
I  Ve  bressed  him  an'  tanked  de  Lawd  dat  made  him,  'an 
sent  him,  to  free  de  cullud  folks.  But  dey  done  gone 
kill  him,  honey;  dey  kum  up  behin'  him  an'  kill  him." 

"I  wished  he'd  a  lived,  "  said  her  companion,  the 
younger  of  the  two.  "  Say  Phoeb,  don  't  you  tink  if 
he  'd  a  lived,  dey  would  n't  robbed  de  poah  cullud  folks 
in  de  Freedman's  Sank?  " 

This  evidently  touched  the  first  speaker  in  "a  sensi- 
tive point,  for  straightening  herself  up  and  putting 
her  hands  upon  her  hips,  she  exclaimed  —  "  Bobbed 
dem!  not  dey  I  I  'd  'a'  had  my  money  dis  bressed 
mini  t,  ten  times  as  big,  jess  as  dey  done  tole  me;  an' 
if  dey  'd  stole  dat  dar  money,  he  'd  a  made  'em  wish 
de  day  ob  judgment  would  kum  and  get  froo  wid  'em. 
He  would  n't  a  teched  a  liar  ob  Jeff  Davis  nor  any  dose 
folks;  he  was  too  soff  a  critter  in  his  heart,  too  soff  in 
his  heart  for  dat,  honey  ;  if  he  'd  had  his  way,  dem  folks 
dat  kura  up  behin'  an'  shot  him,  would  n't  'a'  been  hung, 
I  specs;  he'd  say  'go  long  dar  now,  ye  poah  white  truck, 
ye  didn't  know  nuffin  what  ye  was  a  doin'  ;  but  I  duniio 
what  he  would  n't  V  done  to  dem  folks  dat  stole  de 
money  ob  de  poah  cullud  people,  dat  work  for  it  on 
deir  han's  an'  nees,  like  I  did;  an'  didn't  buy  no 
toggery  —  'pears  like  'twas  fo'  years  an'  years,  while 
dey*  all  laif  at  me  an'  say  Phreb's  a  gittin  mean  jess 
like  dem  Yanks,  foah  de  Lawd  I  's  a  shame  to  be  walk- 
in'  'de  streets  wid  'er.  It's  all  gone,  honey,  now,  an'  I 
don't  keer.  I  ain  't  a  gwine  to  be  sech  a  fool  agen.  I  's 
a  gwine  to  spen'  my  money  when  I  gits  it,  an'  not  be 
foolin'  roun'  dem  banks.  Dey  say  dey  '11  take  ebry  rag 


A  PROMISING  ARTIST.  247 

off  ob  you  suah's  you  guv'em  a  chance.  Yes,  dat  's  him, 
suah,  "  she  continued,  looking  again  at  the  picture. 
"  Foah  de  Lawd,  I  tink  if  I  stans  hyar  long  'nuff  he  '11 
look  up  when  he  gits  froo  \vid  dat  dar  sojer,  an'  smile 
jess  like  he  did  dat  bright,  shiny  mornin  when  I  was  a 
totin'  de  clams,  an'  he  sez  so  kine  an'  sweet  to  de 
gem'l'in  he  was  walkin'  wid,  I'ze  afeard  dey'll  need 
many  a  lift  from  us,  Gennul.  " 

In  her  gratitude  for  this  genuine  tribute  to  her 
boy's  picture,  Adelaide  would  have  liked  to  embrace 
this  patroness  of  the  arts.  But  her  girth  forba'le;  the 
fond  mother's  arms  would  scarcely  have  gone  half-way 
round. 

"  There  's  genius  there,"  said,  after  a  long  study,  an 
intelligent,  dignified  gentleman.  "It  ought  to  be 
encouraged.  I  wish,"  he  thought,  "I  had  what  I  once 
wasted.  I  would  give  him  a  lift." 

"Yes,"  said  the  bright  and  handsome  woman  on  his 
arm.  "  They  say  it 's  a  mere  boy — the  artist." 

"  He  lacks  practice,"  replied  the  gentleman. 

Pleased  with  the  general  verdict,  Mrs.  Cleland  went 
on  her  way,  and,  without  further  adventure,  reached 
her  desk.  On  it  she  found  a  letter  from  the  head  of 
the  bureau — probably  a  note  of  directions  about  her 
work.  She  opened  it  and  read: 

Nov.  29,  18— 

DEAK  MADAM:—  I  am  instructed  to  inform  you  that  after  the 
first  prox.  your  services  will  no  longer  be  required,  and  to  thank 
you  for  your  industry  and  faithfulness. 

Yours  truly,  H.  CLAY  WITBECK. 

It  grew  dark  about  her,  and,  instinctively  putting 
out  her  hand,  she  seized  her  chair  or  she  would  have 


248  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


fallen.  Summoning  all  her  strength  she  bent  over 
her  desk  and  went  mechanically  on  with  her  work. 
Slowly  the  hours  dragged.  She  had  but  one  purpose, 
one  thought — after  the  business  day  was  done  to  fly  to 
Winifred.  She  alone  could  keep  back  the  hungry  poli- 
iticians  who,  this  woman  felt,  were  crowding  her  to  de- 
spair, perhaps  to  death.  At  last  the  hours  came  round. 
Putting  on  hat  and  shawl,  and  scarcely  speaking  to 
any  one,  she  hurried  through  the  procession  of  em- 
ployes that  poured  out  of  the  building.  She  passed 
a  small  cluster,  one  of  whom  was  reading  aloud  the 
gossip  of  the  evening  paper.  What  did  he  say?  Did 
she  hear  aright?  Every  word  pierced  her  with  a  pang 
of  terror. 

"  Miss  Winifred  Brewster,  the  President's  daugh- 
ter, left  last  night  on  her  way  to  Europe,  where  she 
will  probabty  remain  all  winter,  for  the  benefit  of  her 
health. " 

Gone!  gone  for  months!  and  in  one  day  more 
her  place,  and  her  means  of  earning  her  daily  bread 
would  be  taken  from  her. 

In  utter  desperation,  she  staggered  on.  Where 
should  she  go?  To  whom  could  she  appeal  among 
the  hoarse  and  eager  throng  of  politicians,  whose  am- 
bition and  self-seeking  rose  before  her  like  a  pitiless 
wall  of  adamant,  which  she  could  not  break,  which 
she  could  not  scale?  To  whom,  among  the  myriads 
in  the  nation,  her  million-headed  employer,  whose  very 
monstrosity  made  it  blind  and  deaf  to  the  prayer  of 
one  feeble  woman?  In  her  office  she  had  had  no  op- 
portunities for  such  acquaintance  with  the  world  as 


A  PROMISING  ARTIST.  249 

would  give  her  a  foothold  elsewhere;  nor  did  she  ac- 
quire there  the  skill  and  experience  useful  for  other 
employments.  She  had  no  money.  She  had  no 
friends.  Her  golden  dream  of  the  morning  was  dis- 
solved into  the  hard,  bare,  brutal  fact  which  with  stony 
cruelty  stared  her  in  the  face. 

At  this  moment  she  saw  approaching  a  gentleman 
whom  she  knew  by  name  and  sight,  and  whose  con- 
nection with  the  Brewster  family  revived  her  hope. 
Summoning  her  mother's  love,  thrusting  down  her 
modest  instinct  which,  like  a  faithful  dog,  tugged  at 
her  and  held  her  back,  she  went  up  to  him,  and  said: 

"This  is  Mr.  Perceval,  I  believe.  I  am  Mrs.  Cle- 
land.  I  came  from  Roxbury.  I  have  just  been  dis- 
missed from  my  place.  I  am  helpless  and  friendless. 
I  was  on  my  way  to  see  Miss  Winifred,  who  has  stood 
by  me  so  long.  She  has  gone  away.  I  suppose  they 
knew  it  and  took  advantage  of  it.  Can  you  not  speak 
to  her  father  and  tell  him  the  circumstances?  I  have 
scarcely  seen  him  for  years.  He  would  hardly  know 
me.  He  is  so  busy  he  could  not  probably  give  me  an 
opportunity  to  tell  him  all.  Winifred,  I  know,  would 
never  suffer  it,  but  they  scarcely  waited  for  her  to  get 
out  of  town." 

As  Adelaide,  almost  breathless — now  pale  with 
fear,  now  flushed  with  excitement — poured  out  her 
supplication,  Perceval  began  swelling  like  a  pouter- 
pigeon,  and  at  the  first  opportunity  said,  with  his  wont- 
ed pomposity: 

"Ahem!  yes,  madam,  certainly.  The  President 
will  be  only  too  glad  to  do  anything  I  ask,  in  my  opin- 
ion ;  provided  the  case  is  as  you  state  it." 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


"It  is— it  is!"  she  cried. 

"  No  doubt,  madam,  no  doubt,"  he  said  grandly,  lay- 
ing his  hand  upon  hers  and  slyly  keeping  it,  while  she 
was  so  intent  upon  his  words  that  she  did  not  even 
notice  the  affront.  "  It  shall  be  attended  to.  I  will 
investigate  it  immediately,  in  order  to  assure  myself 
of  all  the  points.  That  done,  the  President  will  abide 
by  my  advice,  and  I  shall  certainly  advise  in  your  fa- 
vor, madam." 

The  tears  came  into  her  e}7es;  her  bright  color 
bloomed  again;  she  looked  so  sweet,  so  charming,  that 
Perceval  was  tempted  to  insult  her  with  a  kiss  in  the 
open  street. 

"Thank  you!  bless  you,  sir!"  she  said,  fervently; 
"  if  you  only  knew  all — what  I  look  for,  what  I  am 
working  for.  Will  it  be  convenient  for  you  to  see  at 
once?  The  time  is  short,  and  once  out,  it  is  harder  to 
get  back." 

"These  affairs  must  be  conducted  methodically, 
madam,"  said  Perceval  with  extra  magnificence,  "  I 
cannot  let  you  know  before  to-night,  in  my  opinion." 

"  To-night!  "  she  echoed. 

"Yes,  it  will  take  some  time  to  get  'round." 

"  I  did  n't  mean  that.  I  was  surprised  that  it  would 
be  so  soon.  Can  I  know  to-night  before  I  sleep?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  certainly." 

"  Will  you  send  word — a  messenger?     I  live  at — : 

"No,  I  '11  not  do  that;  I " 

He  was  about  to  add,  "  I  '11  come  myself,"  but  a 
new  suggestion  checked  him. 

"  I  can  arrange  it.  Can  you  come  down  town  r.3 
late  as  ten  o'clock?" 


A  PROMISING  ARTIST.  251 

"  I  Ve  never  been  out  so  late  as  that.  I  would  hard- 
ly dare " 

"  Very  well,"  said  Perceval,  coldly. 

"0,  I  will  come,  sir;  I  must  come;  I  cannot  sleep 
unless  I  know." 

"  Then  meet  me  at  ten  o'clock  at  the  Chesapeake  Res- 
taurant— two  blocks  down  the  next  street,  to  the  left." 

She  fell  back  from  him,  violently  pulling  her  hand 
away.  The  hot  blood  ebbed  and  flowed  from  head  to 
foot  within  her.  Her  cheek  burned  now  as  if  he  had 
smitten  her  with  his  open  palm.  Her  womanly  wrath, 
gathering  its  strength  like  the  rage  of  a  wounded  an- 
imal, was  about  to  descend  upon  him  in  scorn  and  ab- 
horrence, when  suddenly  the  consciousness  of  her  sit- 
uation burst  upon  her.  She  was  severing  the  only 
thread  that  bound  her  to  hope  and  life.  She  stopped. 
He  watched  her — saw  her  glistening  eyes  and  flush  of 
color,  and  waited  in  wantonness  for  her  to  speak.  Did 
she,  he  wondered,  in  that  swift  moment,  assailed  by 
dread,  tempted  by  hope,  for  the  sake  of  food  and  rai- 
ment, for  the  .sake  of  her  own  sustenance  and  her  boy's 
future,  cast  away  all  that  makes  life  precious  to  woman  ? 
What  strife  and  agony  went  on  within  her?  What 
subjugation  of  her  finer  self  to  the  caitiff  wants  of  clay ! 

She  dared  not  raise  her  eyes.  She  said,  in  a  chok- 
ing whisper,  "  I  will  be  there,"  and  turning  swiftly, 
fled  in  the  opposite  direction,  leaving  lum  amazed  and 
flattered  at  the  ease  of  his  conquest. 


252  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTEE  XXYI. 

THE  PRIVATE  HOSPITAL. 

PERCEVAL  was  waiting  in  one  of  the  private  rooms  of 
the  restaurant.  A  table,  set  for  two  persons,  and  two 
bottles  of  champagne  on  the  ice,  showed  with  what  al- 
lurements he  meant  to  reinforce  those  necessities  of  the 
poor  woman,  of  which  he  had  already  tried  to  take  a 
base  advantage. 

He  arose  and  began  adjusting  his  tie,  while  silently 
addressing  himself  in  the  glass.  "  Ha!  you  wicked 
fellow!  They  give  right  up  old  boy,  when  they  find 
you  're  in  earnest.  But  you  musn't  shock  her  at  first. 
You  're  a  bad  boy,  Gus  Perceval,  a  very  bad  boy,  I 
must  say.  A  very  bad  young  man  now,  ain't  you?" 

He  caught  himself  smiling,  and  his  reflections — in 
both  senses  of  the  word — were  interrupted  by  a  knock 
at  the  door.  The  clock  was  striking  the  hour  as  the 
waiter  announced:  "  The  person  you  spoke  of,  sir." 

"  Show  her  up !  "  said  Perceval. 

In  a  few  seconds  the  waiter  again  opened  the  door 
and,  motioning  him  to  retire,  Perceval  with  something 
of  the  rudeness  of  a  Caffre  bridegroom,  rushed  to 
welcome  her.  Delicacy,  even  in  intrigue,  was  not  one 
of  his  strong  points. 


THE  PRIVATE  HOSPITAL.  253 

But  running  against  and  nearly  upsetting  a  de- 
formed youth  on  crutches,  lie  recoiled  with  amazement 
and  disgust. 

"  What  do  you  want?"  asked  Perceval,  savagely. 

"  My  mother  is  below,  waiting  the  answer  yon  prom- 
ised." 

"O!  that's  her  limping  whelp,"  sneered  the  angry 
Perceval  to  himself.  "  "Well,  it 's  a  short  answer,"  he 
replied  aloud.  "  Tell  her  I  examined  the  case,  and 
there 's  no  call  for  my  interference,  and  I  shall  so  ad- 
vise the  President." 

Arthur  was  a  sensitive  boy  whose  infirmity  had  de- 
nied him  knowledge  of  the  world,  shielded  him  from 
contact  with  its  roughness,  and  kept  him  a  good 
deal  in  ignorance  of  its  wickedness.  But,  shrinking 
almost  like  a  woman  from  this  coarse  assault,  he  per- 
ceived in  Perceval's  tone  the  lack  of  respect  which  lie 
knew  was  due  his  mother.  His  love  conquered  his 
timidity  and,  with  a  certain  dignity  of  resentment,  he 
answered : 

"  She  should  not  have  demeaned  herself  by  asking 
3rou.  1  'm  sure  no  gentleman  would  have  made  her 
come  to  a  public  place  like  this.  If  we  had  not  hoped 
you  might  prove  better  than  we  thought  you,  we  would 
not  have  stirred  a  step." 

"  You  may  both  stir  several  steps  and  get  out*  of 
this,"  retorted  Perceval ;  "I  might  have  known  what 
gratitude  to  expect." 

Adelaide  had  waited  tremulous  below.  She  had 
given  apparent  consent  to  Perceval's  proposal  because 
at  the  same  moment,  she  had  conceived  the  device  of 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


baffling  his  treachery  by  bringing  Arthur  to  the  ren- 
dezvous with  her.  But  she  had  hoped,  against  hope, 
that  Perceval  might  still  set  affairs  in  operation  by 
which  she  might  profit;  even  trusted,  as  Arthur  told 
him,  that  he  might  not  prove  as  evil  as  he  seemed. 
So  that  her  disappointment  at  his  answer  was  serious, 
if  not  keen. 

"  There  's  the  picture,  mother,"  said  Arthur,  as  they 
rode  homeward,  "  that  may  have  a  customer  soon." 

"  People  are  not  spending  money  for  pictures  now, 
not  here  certainly;  at  least  for  that  sort  of  picture," 
she  answered  with  a  bitterness  not  natural  to  her, 
Yet  on  reflection  his  suggestion  cheered  her. 

The  belated  car,  driven  at  high  speed,  was  approach- 
ing the  cross-street  on  which  she  lived  and  she  had 
arisen  to  pull  the  bell. 

"  Get  away  there!  Get  away  there!  "  cried  the  driver 
with  an  oath,  applying  his  brake  with  such  vigor  as 
to  throw  her  upon  the  seat  just  as  the  wheels  were 
lifted  from  the  track  while  passing  over  some  soft  and 
sickening  obstruction,  from  which,  as  the  cruel  tires 
cut  into  it,  came  a  groan  of  pain. 

She  and  Arthur  scrambled  out.  The  driver,  the 
conductor,  and  a  pedestrian  from  the  side-  walk  were 
stooping  over  some  object  tying  on  the  track  behind. 
There  was  a  dark  stain  on  the  thin  snow  which  had 
just  fallen. 

"  He  staggered  on  to  me  before  I  saw  him,"  ex- 
claimed the  driver;  "and  when  I  hollered,  instead  of 
starting  back  he  tumbled  forward." 

"  He  '11  bleed  to  death,"  said  the  man  from  the  side- 


THE  PRIVATE  HOSPITAL.  255 

Her  woman's  heart  was  all  compassion.  "  Bring 
him  to  rny  house!"  she  cried ;  "  two  doors  off.  There 's 
a  doctor  'round  the  corner.  Arthur,  go  call  him,  please." 

They  carried  the  limp  hody  to  her  cottage,  and  she 
had  the  fainting  man  placed  upon  her  bed. 

"  The  doctor  says  he  never  goes  out  nights,  unless 
he  knows  the  persons,"  said  Arthur,  coming  in. 

"  He 's  mighty  particular,"  commented  the  stranger, 
the  conductor  having  gone  on  with  his  car. 

"  I  don't  think  there 's  another  within  several 
blocks,"  she  said.  "  He  might  die  before  we  could 
get  another.  If  I  should  pay  him  in  advance,  don't 
you  think  he  would  come? " 

"  I  presume  so.  But  I  would  not  risk  much  on 
him,"  he  added,  nodding  towards  the  bed.  "  He  's 
hardly  worth  saving." 

"He is  a  human  being,"  cried  the  womanly  woman, 
as  he  lay  panting  and  groaning.  "  I  cannot  see  him 
suffer  like  that.  Arthur,"  she  continued,  thrusting  a 
five-dollar  note— all  she  possessed  in  the  world — into 
her  son's  hand,  "  take  this,  and  tell  the  doctor  if  he 
has  a  spark  of  humanity  in  him  that  he  '11  come  and 
save  a  man's  ^life!" 

The  doctor  wore  his  smoothness  as  the  chamois  does 
that  of  his  skin — shaggy  side  out.  Arthur  had  not  at 
first  clearly  explained  the  facts,  and,  thinking  it  some 
drunken  spree,  he  had  declined  to  come.  The  offer  of 
the  money,  which  he  refused,  disarmed  him,  and  he 
presented  himself  in  a  very  few  minutes. 

"  A  bad  case,"  he  said,  after  an  examination. 
u  He  has  too  much  whiskey  in  him.  However,  I  can 
tell  better  in  the  morning." 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


He  proceeded  to  wash  and  dress  the  limb,  which  was 
badly  crushed,  Adelaide  furnishing  what  she  could 
from  her  scanty  stores.  She  could  see  that  the  doctor 
was  looking  with  suspicion  or  curiosity  at  the  affair, 
as  if  trying  to  defins  the  relations  between  herself  and 
the  man.  The  increasing  embarrassment  grew  op- 
pressive. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  who  it  is?"  she  asked,  in  order 
to  apprise  him  of  the  situation. 

"  I  never  saw  him  before,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Neither  did  I,"  she  replied,  so  sincerely  that  he 
believed  her. 

"How  came  lie  here?" 

"  I  was  in  the  car.  I  had  him  brought  here.  What 
else  could  I  do?" 

"  You  're  a  good  woman,"  said  the  doctor.  "  The 
conductor  should  have  taken  him  to  the  hospital.  I  '11 
go  and  have  some  prescriptions  put  up,  and  come  back 
and  sit  up  with  him.  Appearances  were  against  me 
at  first,  but  I  want  you  to  understand  you  're  not  the 
only  good  Samaritan  in  this  neighborhood." 

It  was  long  after  midnight  before  the  sufferings  of 
the  injured  man  allowed  her  to  sleep.  So  she  arose 
with  a  headache,  and  was  half-sick  from  the  excite- 
ment and  disappointment  of  the  previous  day. 

She  went  into  the  bed-room.  The  patient  lay  breath- 
ing heavily.  His  blood  had  dripped  along  the  carpet 
from  the  front  door,  and  stained  the  bed-clothes.  The 
doctor,  on  the  lounge,  opened  his  eyes,  got  up,  and  felt 
of  his  patient's  pulse. 

"  A  little  more  favorable,"  said  he.     "  If  he  can  be 


THE  PRIVATE  HOSPITAL.  257 

kept  perfectly  quiet  a  few  days  he  may  come  out  all 
right,  and  amputation  not  be  necessary." 

The  loss  of  a  limb  always  made  Adelaide  think  pit- 
ifully of  her  own  boy,  and  she  said: 

"  Yes — yes.     He  shall  not  be  disturbed." 

"J3ut  it's  more  of  a  burden  upon  you  than  any  one 
has  a  right  to  impose,"  he  continued. 

"  If  it  will  only  save  his  life!"  she  answered,  though 
with  a  sinking  heart;  not  having  the  least  idea  whence 
the  means  for  carrying  the  burden  would  come. 

"I'll  help  you,"  said  the  doctor.  "But  only  say 
the  word,  and  he  shall  be  taken  to  the  hospital;  though 
I'd  rather  not  move  him, "he  added, speaking  to  him- 
self rather  than  to  her. 

"  Let  him  stay !  "  she  said  firmly. 

"Perhaps  I  can  find  out  something  about  him. 
Let  us  look  for  his  name!  " 

His  handkerchief  did  not  betray  his  secret,  if  it 
were  one,  and  his  garments  faithfully  hid  it.  His 
pocket-book  contained  a  few  cents  of  change,  one  or 
two  "gambling  chips"  and  a  scrap  or  two  of  soiled 
and  folded  paper. 

"  Perhaps  he  is  a  dismissed  Government  clerk,"  said 
the  doctor;  "  they  are  not  apt  to  have  many  friends." 

His  innocent  jest  stung  the  distressed  woman,  but 
she  said  nothing. 

"  He  '11  probably  lie  in  a  stupor  all  day  and  will 
only  require  attention  to  his  doses.  I  will  get  a  nurse 
for  to-night." 

He  returned   to  his  office,  and  Adelaide  prepared 
herself  for  her  last  day's  work. 
17 


258  A  FAMO US  VICTOR  Y. 

"Don't  despair,  little  mother  !"  exclaimed  Arthur 
from  a  side  room  he  used  as  a  studio,  within  sight  and 
hearing  of  the  injured  man.  "Don't  give  up.  I 
dreamed  last  night  I  went  by  the  art  store  and  the 
picture  was  gone.  Some  one  had  bought  it  and 
taken  it  away." 

She  smiled  a  little  at  his  hopefulness,  and  said  she 
liked  superstitions  of  that  sort.  In  spite  of  her  incre- 
dulity, his  words  soothed  her. 

On  nearing  the  art  store,  she  was  startled  at  missing 
the  usual  crowd  in  front.  She  could  hardly  realize  at 
once  that  it  meant  the  picture  was  not  there.  She 
stood  still  a  moment. 

It  was  not  merely  that  this  would  bring  "an  imme- 
diate relief  of  her  necessities,  but  it  opened  up  the 
splendid  possibilities  which  for  years  had  been  her  daily 
dream.  Arthur,  her  Arthur,  was  recognized  at  last. 
The  talent  she  had  watched  with  such  delight  would 
be  seen  and  known  of  all  men.  His  name  and  fame 
would  be  on  people's  lips  and  vivid  far  and  near  in 
print.  Forgotten  would  be  those  sad  defects  of  body  ; 
critics  would  applaud  ;  admirers  caress  ;  and  wide  op- 
portunities be  offered  for  study  and  improvement. 
Could  he  but  have  created  pictures  as  glowing  as  his 
mother's  love  painted  for  him,  his  genius  would  have 
won  all  the  treasures  of  homage  and  renown  which  in 
this  brief  and  delicious  enchantment,  she  imagined 
were  already  gained. 

u  His  dream  has  come  true,"  she  whispered  almost 
aloud.  "It 's  sold,  it 's  sold,  I  'm  sure  it 's  sold." 

She  laughed  half  hysterically.  The  joy  seemed 
greater  than  she  could  bear. 


THE  PRIVATE  HOSPITAL.  259 

"  I  was  wicked  last  night ;  too  hasty  ;  too  bitter  and 
unforgiving.  God  forgive  me  and  teach  me  to  forgive 
them  that  trespass  against  me!  Teach  me  to  trust 
thee,  O  Heavenly  Father!"  she  prayed,  "only  it's  so 
hard,  it 's  so  hard  at  times." 

By  the  time  her  humble  silent  litany  was  done  she 
had  reached  the  window.  It  was  empty  !  She  rushed 
into  the  store.  She  could  not  see  it  anywhere.  The 
junior  partner  came  slowly  toward  her. 

"  Have  you  sold  it,  sir  ?    Please  tell  me  quick!  " 

One  might  have  smiled  at  her  want  of  commercial 
tact  in  betraying  so  great  an  eagerness  to  sell.  The 
gentleman  made  no  answer.  He  pointed  toward  a 
case  of  drawers  next  the  wall.  Against  them  stood 
an  empty  frame.  Bewildered,  she  looked  at  him  and 
then  at  the  frame  again. 

"  I  don't  understand  exactly.  Didn't  they  like  the 
frame  !" 

I  'm  very  sorry  madam,"  he  stammered,  "  but  the 
truth  is,  the  picture 's  gone." 

"  Gone  !  gone  !  "  she  cried,  half  in  ecstacy,  half  in 
alarm.  "Who  has  taken  it?  How  much  did  they 
give?" 

"  It  was  not  stolen.     I  do  not  know  who  did  it." 

She  continued  staring  at  him  in  utter  perplexity  and 
then  burst  out: 

"  Who  did  it  ?— did  it  ?  My  lay  did  it.  Dares 
any  one  say  he  did  not  do  it." 

Her  indignation  and  excitement  brought  tm  her 
harassing  cough. 

"In  feet,"  stammered  the  proprietor, after  she  was 


260  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

quieter,  "some  one  last  night  broke  into  the  store,  cut 
it  out  of  its  frame,  and  tore  it  into  shreds.  We  found 
them  on  the  floor.  You  would  not  care  to  see  them. 
I  am  very  sorry,"  he  added  with  sincere  sadness  in  his 
tones,  looking  at  her  agonized  face  and  hearing  a  con- 
vulsive sob  which  she  subdued  into  a  convulsive  laugh. 

Six  months,  nine  months  of  her  boy's  patient  work 
destroyed,  almost  as  by  the  flash  of  a  sword!  She  a 
beggar,  he  robbed  of  his  precious  toil! 

"  Are  you  not  responsible  ? "  she  asked  almost 
sternly. 

"  Not  at  all  Madam!  We  exhibited  it  only  as  a  fa- 
vor. In  fact  it  annoyed  us  very  much.  There  was 
always  a  crowd  and  sometimes  harsh  remarks.  But 
we  could  not  refuse  you,  and  we  would  have  sold  it 
without  commission  if  we  could.  There  were  two  or 
three  inquiries  about  it,  and  much  interest  manifested 
by  some.  To-day  a  gentleman  was  to  have  come  in  to 
talk  about  it,  but  I  don't  think,  if  you'll  pardon  me,  that 
the  execution  was  quite  what  it  should  have  been.  He 
can  probably  do  much  better  the  second  time.  Let  him 
try  again,  we  will  effect  a  sale  for  him  hereafter." 

"  Hereafter!"  Meanwhile  who  would  feed  and  clothe 
and  shelter  them?  and  what  would  she  do  with  the 
poor  wretch  whom  the  storms  of  fate  had,  the  night 
before,  brought  to  her  own  forlorn  and  sinking  craft? 

She  was  dragging  herself  out  of  the  store  to  her  work 
once  more,  when  suddenly  she  thought  :  "  Why  not 
see  him  yourself.  He  can  do  no  more  than  refuse. 
Probably  he  will,  perhaps  he  may  not,"  and,  inspired 
by  this  new  hope,  she  set  off  at  once. 


THE  MISSING  LINK.  261 


CHAPTEE  XXVII. 
THE  MISSING  LINK. 

HAYING  sent  in  her  card,  she  waited  with  a  promis- 
cuous crowd,  representing  nearly  every  part  and  class 
in  the  nation,  a  whole  hour  in  the  ante-room  for  an 
audience  with  President  Brewster.  Officials  and  con- 
gressmen passed  freely  in  and  out,  and  it  was  not  until 
there  was  a  lull  in  this  procession  that  she  was  sum- 
moned. 

Her  limbs  almost  failed  her,  as  she  approached  him. 
Even  as  a  neighbor  his  aggressive  temperament  and 
stalwart  presence  always  made  her  timid,  and  his  pres- 
ent position  only  increased  the  tremor  with  which  her 
anxious  errand  filled  her. 

"  Well  madam,"  said  he,  abruptly  but  kindly. 

"  I  would  like  to  have  seen  Miss  "Winifred,  sir," 
said  the  trembling  woman.  "  They  are  going  to  take 
my  place  from  me." 

"Who  is? "  asked  Brewster. 

"  Mr.  Perceval  told  you,  I  suppose." 

"  No,  I  have  not  seen  him." 

"  I  don  't  know  all  the  ins  and  outs  of  it.  sir.  Mr. 
Bunkery  wants  it  for  some  of  his  friends,  and  they  've 
given  me  only  two  days'  notice." 


262  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"All!"  said  firewater,  musingly. 

"  Can  't  you  keep  it  for  me!  It's  all  I  have,"  she 
cried.  "  The  old  man  is  so  poor.  My  boy — Robert's 
boy — Robert  was  a  good  soldier,  a  brave  soldier,  one 
of  your  own  men,  Major  Brewster — Mr.  President. — 
They  killed  him,  you  know — he  was  acting  under  your 
orders.  His  boy  is  so  promising,  so  talented,  so  gentle. 
— I  've  worked  hard  all  his  life  to  give  him  a  chance, 
and  they  want  my  place  for  a  person  who  has  had  no 
experience,  and  very  little  fitness." 

Brewster  could  hardly  help  smiling  at  this  ar- 
gument. 

"  I  've  tried  to  help  the  old  man  at  home,  too,  but 
expenses  were  greater  here  than  I  thought.  I  saved 
a  little  now  and  then,  but  the  assessments  came  along, 
one  after  another;  they  ate  it  up  as  fast  as  I  could  put 
it  by.  Maine,  Ohio,  New  York, — it  seemed  as  if 
there  'd  never  be  an  end.  There  never  is  an  end,  sir; 
it  takes  one's  very  hope  of  saving,  and  now  myall  is 
going.  They  say  I  do  my  work  well.  Nobody  has 
any  fault  to  find.  I  seldom  lose  a  day.  I  gave  up  my 
vacation  one  year  to  do  extra  work.  Can  't  you  save 
it  to  me?  You 've  only  to  speak  the  word,  Mr.  Pres- 
ident. Don't  let  them  take  it  from  me;  I  shan  't 
know  where,  in  all  this  wide  world,  to  turn,  when  that 
is  gone.  For  Robert's  sake,  sir, — I  will  pay  some- 
thing— all  I  can  afford  to  pay.  Do  not  let  them  take 
the  bread  from  a  helpless  woman  and  starve  his  boy!  " 

She  clasped  her  hands  in  despair  at  the  prospect  of 
her  misery.  Her  knees  gave  way,  and  she  sank  in- 
voluntarily to  the  floor,  unconscious  of  the  curious, 


THE  MISSING  LINK.  263 

but  sympathetic  glances  of  the  secretaries,  and  the 
stares  of  one  or  two  persons  who  had  opened  the  door 
and  looked  into  the  room. 

Danforth,  coming  forward,  helped  her  to  her  feet, 
gave  her  a  glass  of  water,  and  seated  her  in  a  chair. 

"  Make  yourself  easy,"  said  Brewster,  after  she  was 
a  little  restored ;  "  I  will  do  what  I  can.  I  have  many 
things  to  consider;  but  if  it  be  possible,  I  will  see  that 
this  goes  no  further.  " 

He  waved  her  away,  and  she  silently  withdrew, 
murmuring  her  unspeakable  thanks  for  his  few  words 
of  assurance,  whose  force  and  import  she  had,  in  her 
desperateness,  greatly  exaggerated.  As  she  went  out, 
she  met  Mr.  Bunkery. 

That  gentleman  began  almost  peremptorily  : 

"  It 's  over  a  month,  Mr.  President,  since  a  place 
was  promised  me  for  my  friend  Cranage,  and  his 
daughter.  But  I  understand  now  that  quite  other  ar- 
rangements have  been  made,  or  are  to  be  shortly 
made.  I  had  not  expected  anything  of  the  kind,  and 
do  not  comprehend  the  cause  of  the  delay.  " 

"I  have  been  trying  my  best  to  make  arrange- 
ments that  will  be  agreeable  and  practical,"  replied 
Brewster,  "  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  will  be  en- 
tirely satisfied  with  the  result.  As  I  hinted  when  we 
talked  of  it,  there  are  serious  objections  to  the  fitness 
of  your  friend  Cranage  for  the  place.  I  have  pretty 
much  made  up  my  mind  about  it;  though,  of  course, 
you  are  at  liberty  to  make  any  suggestions  that  will 
help  to  straighten  out  matters.  " 

"Thank you!"  said  Mr.  Bunkery,  ironically,   "but 


264  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

if  you  could  only  persuade  Byles  to  wait  or  to  enter 
into  these  arrangements  you  speak  of,  it  would  great- 
ly simplify  things.  Unfortunately  he  is  n't  a  party  to 
them,  and  is  doing  all  in  his  power  to  weaken  the  ad- 
ministration in  " Injanner."  He  doesn't  hesitate  to 
speak  contemptuously  of  you  and  your  cabinet.  Al- 
though I  was  once  very  solid  myself  with  Cranage, 
Byles  has  been  working  him  '  round.  Cranage  swings 
the  Methodist  vote  and  is  n't  to  be  fooled  with.  I  can 
hold  him,  provided  I  can  get  a  place  for  him  and  his 
daughter  now,  but  it  must  be  done  at  once  or  we  '11 
lose  him,  for  Byles  is  fighting  for  keeps.  There 's  a 
very  good  berth  for  the  daughter — a  clerkship  Mrs. 
Cleland's  in;  and  it  would  let  me  out  nicely.  I 
would  n't  bother  you  with  a  little  thing  of  this  sort, 
only  they  say  you're  interested  in  her — of  course,  I 
don't  mean  anything  by  that — and  that  we  'd  have  to 
look  to  you  before  the  thing  was  fixed  up.  " 

"  As  a  rule  I  never  interfere  with  these  petty  af- 
fairs," replied  Brewster,  "  but  I  am  quite  inclined  to 
say  that  so  far  as  your  plans  concern  the  lady  you 
mention,  she  will  not  be  disturbed.  " 

"  I  understood  that  would  be  your  position,  Mr. 
President,  and  that 's  why  I  'rn  here.  The  lady  does  n't 
need  the  place  and  Cranage's  young  woman  does.  I 
understand  she  owns  a  house  somewhere — either  in 
Washington  or  wherever  she  lives,  and  does  n't  de- 
pend on  her  office  for  a  living.  " 

"  You  are  mistaken, "  answered  Brewster,  "  she 's 
very  poor;  she  has  made  only  a  small  payment  on  her 
house.  She  has  a  crippled  son  and  one  or  two  other 
relatives  to  support. " 


THE  MISSING  LINK.  265 

"  I  understand,  too, "  continued  Bunkery,  "  that 
she 's  a  little — a  little — well,  not  quite  what  she  ought 
to  be.  I've  heard  of  her  making  appointments  with 
gentlemen;  if  so,  she  ought  to  be  removed. " 

"  Sir,  it  is  a  slander  and  a  calumny,  whoever  re- 
ports it;"  replied  Brewster.  "  I  've  known,  her  from 
girlhood.  She  is  a  pure,  good  woman,  and  I  want  to 
hear  no  one  assail  her  in  that  fashion.  " 

"O  !  I  don't  accuse  her,"  said  Bunkery;  "it  was 
one  of  your  own  family  said  so.  Personally,  I  know 
nothing  against  her. " 

Then  there  came  a  pause,  and  Bunkery  fidgeted  at 
some  papers.  Brewster  turned  from  him  and  began 
reading  the  endorsements  on  a  file  of  documents  held 
by  a  rubber  band.  Finally  Bunkery,  drawing  out  an 
envelope,  took  from  it  a  legal  paper. 

"  I  have  something  here,  Mr.  President,  you  would 
probably  like  to  see." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  It 's  an  affidavit  signed  by  Augustus  Perceval, 
affirming  that  on  a  certain  night,  about  three  years 
since,  he  overheard  a  gentleman,  by  the  name  of 
Brewster,  arranging  with  another,  by  the  name  of 
Danforth  for  a  hunting  expedition  to  the  far  west. 
The  game  was  to  be  taken,  dead  or  alive,  even  if  it 
cost  $50,000." 

Brewster  turned  around  so  sharply  that  his  visitor 
involuntarily  drew  -back  a  little,  but  his  tone  proved 
mild  and  satirical. 

"  It  is  not  at  all  flattering  on  your  part,  Mr.  Bunkery 
to  treat  me  as  one  void  of  understanding.  Do  you 


266  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

really  think  I  am  to  be  frightened  bj  pointing  a  weap- 
on at  me  which  has  been  already  fired  off  so  loud  that 
everybody  heard  it?" 

"For  the  matter  of  that,"  said  Bunkery,  marveling 
at  his  own  boldness,  "it's  these  guns  that  people  think 
ain't  loaded  which  often  do  the  most  damage.  How- 
ever, my  gun  happens  to  be  a  double-barreled  one,  and 
I  '11  show  you  what 's  in  the  other  barrel." 

So  saying,  he  drew  forth  another  paper,  which  he 
laid  upon  the  table,  carefully  keeping  a  firm  hand  like 
a  paper-weight  upon  it.  Brewster  had  made  no  fur- 
ther reply,  but  almost  contemptuously  began  reading 
a  page  of  memoranda  which  Danforth  had  placed 
before  him. 

Bunkery  waited  for  his  attention,  and  finally  re- 
marked : 

"  This  is  the  missing  link." 

"  If  you  have  anything  more  to  say  on  the  subject 
which  brought  you  here,  I  shall  be  pleased  to  hear  it; 
but  I  have  no  time  for  comedy." 

Bunkery  hesitated  again;  his  courage  grew  faint, 
but  he  thought  of  Byles,  and  the  bitterness  of  his  win- 
ning the  prize  he  himself  had  longed  for  ever  since,  as 
a  young  man  and  only  a  supervisor  of  Swayne  county, 
he  had  looked  down  from  the  gallery  of  the  Senate  and 
vowed  "  I  will  be  there  myself  some  day."  This  ever- 
present  ambition  nerved  him  once  more,  and  he  pro- 
ceeded in  a  bolder  tone  than  he  had  yet  assumed: 

"  I  will  read  this  paper.  It  bears  the  letter-head  of 
the  United  States  Consulate  at  London.  It  is  ad- 
dressed 'My  dear  Ashton,'  and  goes  on  as  follows: 


THE  MISSING  LINK. 


A  shrewd,  intelligent  American,  Jfr.  Carroll,  has  run  across 
your  tracks  and  was  here  yesterday  morning  making  inquiries 
about  you  and  the  grain  speculation.  He  took  me  by  surprise,  but 
I  did  as  well  a"s  I  could.  You  must  get  out  of  this  at  once.  The 
old  man's  orders  were  imperative  on  that  point.  There  's  been 
some  imprudence  somewhere.  You  have  been  draining  him 
steadily  of  late;  but  first  thing  you  know,  you  will  be  killing  the 
goose  that  lays  your  golden  eggs.  So  don't  delay,  for  I  am  afraid 
Carroll  already  knows  too  much  of  the  inside  of  the  affair. 

Yours,  THOMAS  STAKKEY. 

"  You  recollect,  Mr.  President,"  continued  Bunkery, 
"  that  tlie  theory  was  that  a  blank  piece  of  paper  had 
been  substituted  in  the  official  envelope  for  the  original 
letter.  Perhaps  that  was  true,  or  perhaps  the  original 
was  preserved  and  a  fac-simile  consulate  envelope 
prepared  —  not  a  very  difficult  affair  in  the  vicinity 
of  a  printing  office — and  the  blank  paper  placed  in- 
side. I  am  not  prepared  to  say  which  method  was 
adopted,  but  I  am  prepared  to  say  that  this  is  the  orig- 
inal, and  it  would  form  a  very  interesting  and  essen- 
tial part  of  the  incompleted  evidence.  I  had  hoped 
that  harmony  would  be  restored  within  the  party,  and 
before  going  to  extremities  I  hope  so  still." 

Brews ter  continued  his  work.  He  of  course  could 
not  afford  to  allow  his  preferences  in  regard  to  the 
head  of  a  bureau  and  a  lemale  clerk  to  provoke  the 
publication  of  further  evidence  in  an  affair  which  the 
public  had  by  this  time  forsaken  if  not  forgotten;  but 
he  was  too  shrewd  and  proud  to  retreat,  showing  any 
signs  of  a  panic.  So,  as  was  his  frequent  fashion 
when  he  wished  to  be  impressive,  he  did  not  look  up 
from  his  task,  but  replied,  in  mild  and  indifferent 
tone: 


268  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"  You  have  not  begun  to  exhaust  the  possibilities  of 
the  case.  Since,  as  you  suggest,  printing  is  so  cheap, 
perhaps  this  envelope  is  not  genuine,  and  its  contents 
are  fictitious,  instead  of  the  other." 

Bunkery  was  startled  a  little  at  the  readiness  of  the 
man,  and  was  about  to  reaffirm  the  genuineness  of  his 
documents,  when  Brewster  continued: 

"  That  bombshell  of  yours  is  filled  with  sawdust, 
sir.  Our  business,  I  think  is  finished." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  Mr.  President,  so  far  as  the 
present  moment  is  concerned.  But,  in  case  of  re- 
nomination  or  a  second  term,  the  bomb  might  be  found 
filled  with  powder." 

Brewster  felt  the  force  of  this,  better  than  Bunkery 
could  tell  him,  but  he  only  replied: 

"  I  think  we  understand  each  other,  sir." 

"  I  think  so  too,  sir." 

Bunkery  may,  or  may  not,  have  heard  of  Lord 
Brougham's  remark  that  "  the  \vhole  machinery  "  of 
the  British  Government  "  ends  in  simply  bringing 
twelve  good  men  into  the  jury  box;"  but  Bunkery, 
and,  for  that  matter,  Brewster  too,  had  a  living  faith 
that  the  whole  machinery  of  th«  United  States  Gov- 
ernment best  fulfilled  its  purpose,  when  it  got  or  kept 
his  opponent's  "man"  or  woman  "out,"  and  put 
his  own  "  man  "  or  woman  "  in."  So  he  took  his  de- 
parture, feeling  a  reasonable  assurance  that  his 
morning's  "work"  had  succeeded  in  starting  that 
ponderous  engine  to  effect  this  sterling  piece  of  states- 
manship, stretching,  in  the  process,  a  wretched  woman 
upon  the  rack  of  penury. 


THE  MISSING  LINK.  269 

lie  was  confirmed  in  this  view  by  a  speedy  visit 
from  Danforth,  who  gave  him  to  understand  that  a 
surrender  of  the  "  bombshell,"  the  "  torpedo,"  and  all 
other  munitions  of  war  in  his  possession,  would  be 
absolutely  essential  to  the  granting  of  his  request. 
Bunkery,  having  a  temperament  which  preferred  pres- 
ent advantages  at  the  expense  of  future  results — a  tem- 
perament quite  necessary  to  a  sincere  believer  in  the 
magic  potency  of  paper  money— consented  to  the  con- 
ditions. 


270  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

DOING  PENANCE. 

BEFORE  she  left  her  desk  that  evening,  the  following 
letter  was  handed  Mrs.  Cleland: 

DEAR  MADAM:  The  President  requests  me  to  say  that,  much  to 
his  regret,  exigencies  of  the  public  service  unforeseen  this  morning, 
oblige  him  to  abandon  the  hope  he  then  entertained  of  his  ability 
to  serve  you.  Please  find  enclosed  a  small  token  of  his  personal 
regard  and  his  desire  to  aid  you. 

.    Very  traly  yours, 

LAWRENCE  DANFORTH. 

The  enclosure  was  a  check  for  $100.  It  was  a  brief 
reprieve,  not  a  pardon,  from  the  tyrant  of  a  sordid 
party  corruption  which  condemned  her  for  the  crime 
of  blocking  the  path  of  a  political  baron,  who,  liko 
many  of  his  class  in  this  "  sw^eet  land  of  liberty,"  and 
this  dawn  of  the  twentieth  century,  kept  alive  the 
essence  of  feudalism. 

As  she  reached  the  little  house  which  she  had 
already  made  home-like  and  dear,  she  bestowed  upon 
it  a  sad  and  tender  glance  in  token  of  the  speedy  fare- 
well she  would  soon  have  to  pay  it.  Before  turning 
the  handle  of  the  door  she  stopped,  her  heart  sinking 
again,  as  it  had  many  a  time  within  the  last  two  da}Ts. 

She  must  tell  her  boy  of  her  own  calamity,  and,  . 


DOING  PENANCE.  271 


worse  than  all,  the  dreadful  story  of  his  picture's  fate 

With  what  anodyne  of  soothing  speech  or  soft 
caress  could  she  deaden  the  torture  it  was  her  part  to 
inflict?  How  could  she  bear  to  see  the  joyless  dusk 
of  his  bereavement  creep  over  his  dear  face?  How 
could  she  tell  him  that  the  treasure  into  which  he  had 
wrought  a  part  of  his  young  life,  and  which,  in  her 
impoverishment,  he  could  not  replace,  was  now  but 
worthless  litter. 

As  she  stood  thus  in  sore  and  troubled  thought, 
the  door  opened  and  Arthur  appeared. 

"O,  Mother!"  he  exclaimed  with  his  startled  face; 
"  the  queerest  thing  has  happened.  A  few  minutes 
ago  I  picked  up  this  piece  of  canvass  under  the  chair 
liis  clothes  are  on;  in  fact,  I  saw  it  before,  sticking 
out  of  his  coat-pocket.  It  is  frayed  at  the  edges  and 
on  it  are  painted  the  tops  of  trees,  some  grass,  and  a 
white  handkerchief.  AVhat  seems  so  funny  to  me  is, 
that  it  looks  as  if  it  were  a  part  of  my  picture.  It 
almost  gave  me  a  shock  at  first,  and  then  I  laughed  at 
the  idea.  I  suppose  it  was  because  I've  been  wonder- 
ing all  day  if  they  had  sold 'The  Friend  indeed.' 
"Why,  what  is  the  matter,  little  mother?  You  look 
white  and  faint.  Poor,  dear  mother,  you're  worn  out 
with  fatigue  and  excitement.  Lie  down  awhile!" 

"It's  nothing,"  she  whispered.  "Give  me  some 
water.  I  am  a  little  faint.  I  did  not  have  any  lunch 
to-day." 

The  wretch  who  had  played  such  havoc  with  her 
boy's  achievement  and  her  own  fabric  of  joy  was  in 
her  house,  lying  in  her  bed,  partaking  of  her  bounty, 


272  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

a  pensioner  upon  her  pity  !  She  had  fed  him  from  her 
meagre  larder,  and  passed  a  forlorn  and  restless  night 
that  he  might  sleep.  Weak,  helpless,  perhaps  dying 
though  he  were,  she  hated  him  with  her  whole  heart 
— lifted  him  all  the  more  that  under  false  pretenses,  it 
almost  seemed,  he  had  defrauded  her  of  her  mercy, 
and  by  her  very  kindness  laid  further  claims  to  her 
compassion  now.  The  thought  of  another  day,  another 
night,  an  indefinite  succession  of  nights  and  days  with 
so  cruel  an  enemy  under  her  roof,  was  wholly  intoler- 
able. He  must  go,  and  go  at  once.  She  would  not 
even  see  him  again.  It  would  tempt  her  to  she  knew 
not  what  scorn,  what  rancor,  what  railings,  even  though 
his  ears  were  hopelessly  closed  to  her  rage,  and  all  his 
senses,  leaden  with  exhaustion  and  opiates,  would  heed 
neither  reproach  nor  wrath.  His  presence,  heaped 
upon  the  injury  he  had  wrought,  was  an  insult  beyond 
words.  The  doctor  must  take  the  miscreant  away, 
though  it  should  change  him  to  the  clod,  she  wished  he 
had  become,  before  he  wreaked  his  idiot  malice  upon 
the  being  who  was  the  dearest  of  all  the  world  to  her. 

And  thus  fchis  harmless,  pitiful  heart  had,  by  the 
wanton  injustice  of  paltry  politicians,  and  the  blind 
stupidity  of  some  wretched  swashbuckler,  been  turned 
to  a  heart  of  stone,  and  its  sweet  human  current  poi- 
soned with  the  venom  of  Jezebels  and  of  Borgias. 

Arthur,  with  mingled  curiosity  and  anxiety,  was 
waiting  for  her  to  speak. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  about  the  picture  by-and-by,  dear 
boy,"  she  said,  turning  toward  her  little  parlor.  "  I 
want  to  talk  with  the  doctor.  I&  he  in?" 


DOING  PENANCE.  273 

"  Pie  said  he  would  be  back  at  five.  It 's  very  near 
that  now." 

"  I  '11  rest  a  while,  and  do  you  run  out  for  a  breath 
of  fresh  air.  You  have  been  in  all  day." 

"Yes,  but  it's  not  been  so  very  dismal,  after  all. 
I've  been  sketching,  as  well  as  nursing,  the  patient. 
He  is  not  very  fascinating,  though.  "Would  you  like 
to  see  it?" 

She  shook  her  head.  Had  it  not  been  almost  dark, 
he  could  have  seen  her  look  of  aversion. 

He  took  her  advice  and  went  out. 

"He  is  no  better,"  said  the  doctor,  entering,  "and 
I  am  afraid  he  will  be  much  worse.  He  moans  and 
tosses,  and  is  growing  weaker." 

She  was  silent. 

"  It  is  an  imposition  on  you,"  he  continued,  notic- 
ing this  marked  change  in  her  mood.  "  I  will  send  him 
to  the  hospital.'" 

"  Will  that  be  dangerous? "  she  asked,  after  a  brief 
pause,  and  with  a  strange,  intense  interest  in  his  an- 
swer. 

"  In  his  present  state,  yes;  his  fever  rages  and  I 
should  fear  the  worst." 

Another  pause  ensued. 

"Suppose  he  had  committed  a  terrible  wrong  upon 
you,  would  you  give  him  shelter,"  she  asked,  after  a 
long  silence. 

"  I  am  a  doctor  of  medicine,  not  of  moral  philoso- 
philosophy,"  he  evasively  replied,  wondering  at  this 
unexpected  interest  in  a  man  she  had  never  seen  be- 
fore. 

18 


274:  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  be  very  dangerous? " 

"  I  think  it  would  be  very  dangerous." 

"It  would  probably — probably — kill  him?"  she 
continued,  rising  and  walking,  in  great  agitation,  up 
and  down  the  room. 

"  It  would  be  almost  certain  to  do  so,"  he  said, 
more  and  more  astonished. 

"  I  want  him  taken  away,"  she  cried,  in  a  voice,  so 
hard,  so  cold,  so  strident,  that  she  scarcely  recognized 
it  as  her  own,  and  stood  interlacing  her  fingers  with 
insane  nervousness. 

Her  tones  affrighted  her.  The  excitement  of  the 
moment,  her  previous  exhaustion,  the  mental  tumult 
of  the  day,  had  driven  her  wild,  and  the  sentence  she 
had  just  pronounced  upon  a  fellow-being  suddenly 
paralyzed  her. 

At  her  words,  the  doctor,  who  was  standing  in  the 
little  hall,  while  she  stood  in  the  door-way,  put  on  his 
overcoat,  took  his  hat,  and  was  drawing  on  his  gloves, 
with  the  purpose  of  sending  for  an  ambulance.  He 
was  quite  dumb-founded,  but,  having  promised  to  be 
governed  by  her  wishes,  nothing  remained  but  com- 
pliance. 

She  gazed  at  him  with  a  steady  stare  and  wanted  to 
detain  him,  but  found  herself  speechless. 

The  horror  of  the  crime  she  had  wished  to  commit 
had  taken  complete  possession  of  her.  The  doctor's 
compliant  attitude,  like  the  spectral  dagger  at  Mac- 
beth's  hand,  startled  her  from  the  paroxysm  of  hate 
that  had  seized  her.  She  saw  herself  standing  on  the 
edge  of  a  gulf  from  whose  depth  and  darkness  she 
recoiled  aghast. 


DOING  PENANCE.  275 


"  No,  no,"  she  cried  after  night-mare  struggles  with 
her  speechless  bondage.  "  I  did  not  mean  it.  I  did 
not  know  what  I  was  saying.  God  forgive  my  sinful 
heart!  I  was  maddened  by  wrongs  which,  through 
no  fault  of  mine,  have  been  done  me,  and  which  were 
crushing  me* to  dust.  He  shall  stay.  I  will  watch 
and  nurse  him.  I  have  nothing  else  to  do  now — 
nothing  in  the  world  to  do.  I  owe  him  his  life,  for 
I  would  have  taken  it.  I  do  not  know  what  evil 
spirit  possessed  me.  I  pretend  to  be  a  Christian 
woman,  believing  in  the  God  of  the  widow  and  the 
fatherless,  and  yet  so  weak  and  so  wicked  that  in  all 
this  bad  city  there  is  not  one  baser  and  wickeder  than, 
for  a  brief  moment,  I  was  in  my  heart.  I  cannot 
tell  you  now,  doctor;  but  all  I  have  shall  be  his,  and, 
if  that  be  possible,  I  will  nurse  him  back  to  life." 

Concealing  his  curiosity  after  the  manner  of  his 
profession,  the  doctor  bowed  in  silence,  and,  before  he 
had  taken  off  his  outer  garments  again,  she  had  gone 
to  the  sick  man's  room. 

And  there  she  remained  for  days,  doing  penance  for 
the  wrong  she  had  committed  against  her  own  soul ; 
listening  to  the  ravings  and  the  vulgar  oaths  which 
the  sick  man's  mind,  ungeared  by  delirium,  prodigally 
reeled  off;  performing  services  that  only  love  or  relig- 
ion makes  possible  to  delicate  and  sensitive  women; 
holding  herself  with  strained  and  high-strung  nerves 
to  every  duty  and  act  necessary  to  save  the  life  of  one 
she  loathed;  and,  until  the  doctor  pronounced  him  out 
of  danger,  lulling  her  fevered  conscience  with  cease- 
less martyrdom. 


276  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

Then,  withholding  the  story  of  her  desperate  situa- 
tion, she  told  the  doctor  the  cause  of  her  fierce  enmity 
toward  the  patient  which  so  suddenly  flamed  out  that 
fatal  afternoon.  He  listened  without  a  word  until  she 
had  finished. 

"  I  do  not  blame  you,"  he  said,  when  she  was  done. 
"  If  you  had  told  me  then,  I  would  have  taken  the  re- 
sponsibility and  would  have  removed  him." 

"  Then  I  am  glad  I  did  not  tell  you.  It  would  have 
filled  me  with  life-long  remorse." 

"  Poor  woman !  "  he  thought,  looking  at  the  hollow 
eyes,  the  hectic  flush,  and  noticing  the  frequent  cough. 
"  It  would  not  have  troubled  you  long." 


A  HOUSE  OF  REFUGE.  277. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

A  HOUSE  OF  REFUGE. 

THE  patient  was  wan  and  weak;  the  swarthy  parch- 
ment, which  served  the  purposes  of  a  complexion,  was 
sallow  and  shriveled;  the  hands  and  limbs  were  scarce- 
ly outlines  of  the  human  figure.  But  he  could  sit  in 
an  easy  chair — the  best  in  the  house — and,  being  on 
the  high  road  to  recovery,  the  doctor  determined  to 
send  him  away  at  once. 

"  See  here,  my  man,"  said  the  physician  suddenly: 
"  do  you  know  who  has  been  caring  for  you  as  only  a 
woman  cares  for  a  brother  that  scarcely  ever  speaks 
a  kind  word  to  her,  or  for  a  drunken  husband  whose 
life  she  saves  that  he  may  curse  or  beat  her  when 
he  gets  strong  again?" 

"  I  didn't  know,  be  Gahd,  doc., "  said  the  other  in  a 
subdued  voice,  for  he  was  physically  weak  and  mor- 
ally tame. 

"I'll  tell  you,  sir.  She  is  the  mother  of  the  clever 
young  fellow  who  painted  the  picture  which  you  cut 
to  pieces.  And  she  knew  yon  did  it,  too  I " 

The  patient  opened  wide  his  eyes  and  rubbed  his 
head,  for  during  his  illness,  he  had  quite  forgotten  the 
incident.  It  evidently  came  back  to  him  at  last,  for 
lie  said  : 


278  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"Yes,  I  was  right  smart  drunk  that  night,  doc. 
'Tain't  a  thing  I'm  's  proud  of  now,  as  I  was  then. 
But  as  fo'  that  yeah  yahn,  you  'ah  telling  me,  doc.,  I 
don't  b'leeve  a  word  of  it.  No,  no.  No  Yankee 
woman  would  ever  have  done  that,  suah.  She  'd  a 
tunned  me  out  o'  her  house  at  midnight  in  the  cold,  to 
let* me  die,  and  chuckled  at  me  through  the  winduh.  " 

"  Yes,  that 's  your  idea  of  women ;  but  the  truth 's 
very  different,  as  it  is  from  most  of  your  ideas.  She  fed 
and  nursed  you,  and  brought  you  through.  The  world 
owes  her  a  grudge  for  doing  it,  too.  You  owe  her 
more  than  you  can  ever  pay;  far  more  than  you '11 
ever  try  to  pay. " 

The  bewildered  man  could  make  nothing  of  this 
queer  problem.  Every  side  that  he  looked  at  was  en- 
tirely new  to  him.  His  mind,  as  if  in  search  for  some 
familiar  crevice  affording  him  an  insight  into  the  pre- 
ternatural contents  of  this  experience,  marched  around 
and  around  the  subject  up  to  which  the  doctor  had  led 
him. 

"Well, be Gahd!  I  nevah  hud  anything  like  that!" 
he  said;  adding,  after  a  long  pause  of  astonishment, 
"what  a  fool  she  was!" 

"  Now  ypu  are  coining  to  your  senses,"  commented 
the  doctor. 

"  You  see  how  it  was,  doc. — just  ask  that  queer 
woman  to  step  in  here,  and  I  '11  tell  you  all  about  it." 

The  doctor  did  so,  and  Mrs.  Cleland,  at  once  curi- 
ous and  reluctant,  entered  and  took  a  seat. 

"  I  had  taken  too  much,  that 's  a  fact,  doc.,"  he  said, 
addressing  himself  to  the  doctor  rather  than  to  the 


A  HOUSE  OF  REFUGE.  279 

woman  whose  benevolent  eccentricity  had  almost  led 
him  into  assigning  her  to  a  different  order  of  beings, 
"  I  was  marching  a  kind  of  lock-step  along  the  street 
— at  least  it  seemed 's  though  't  was  locked  and  I  'd 
lost  the  key — when  I  saw  the  doah  of  the  stoah  open. 
<  Mighty  kerless,'  said  I,  '  and  I'll  ketch  the  burglah, 
I  reckon.'  So  I  drop  in  and  I  see  the  pictchah;  thinks 
I,  I  '11  jist  fix  that,  and  it  '11  be  the  best  thing  in  the 
free  advertising  line  I  ken  git;  and  I  needed  advertis- 
ing, if  I  needed  anything.  You  heah  me!  Was  n't  it 
in  the  papahs  next  day?" 

"  I  saw  a  paragraph,  I  think,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Only  a  paragraph !"  said  "Colonel"  Aiken,  contempt- 
uously;  "  'twas  wuth  a  colnm',  and  would  have  given 
the  word '  go'  to  my  cornah  grocery.  I  '11  start  her  next 
week,  anyhow.  When  I  came  out  of  the  stoah,  doc.,  I 
sort  o'  felt  mean  all  ovah,  that 's  a  fact,  though  I  had  n't 
any  notion  what  'twas  all  about.  Thinks  I,  I  '11  lie  down 
and  sleep  it  off;  then  something  seemed  a-lmrting  me 
pretty  bad,  and  next  thing  I  knew  I  woke  and  saw  you 
and  this  curious  lady  looking  at  me.  Madam ! "  he 
said,  with  a  serious  and  unwonted  dignity,  "  I  want 
to  apologise;  on  my  honah  I  do,  madam!  I  owe  you 
a  great  deal  more  than  an  apology,  and  if  his  luck 
won't  keep  dead  against  him,  Jefferson  Aiken  will  see 
that  you  ah  paid,  madam ;  be  Gahd,  1  will.  Excuse 
me,  madam !  That  was  a  word  from  my  native  tongue 
which  I  learned  in  infancy,  madam.  They  say  when 
yon  ah  a  little  out  of  your  head,  the  language  you 
learned  when  you  were  a  child,  even  though  you  've 
forgotten  it, 'will  come  back  to  you.  In  the  meantime, 


280  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

madam,"  he  added,  fumbling  in  his  vest-pocket  and 
handing  her  the  few  cents  of  change  which  constituted 
his  entire  fortune,  and  a  memorandum  of  the  odd  dol- 
lars due  him  by  a  poker  comrade  as  impecunious  as 
himself;  "you  need  it  more  than  I  do,  madam,"  he 
added,  almost  plaintively,  when  she  declined  it,  "  and 
Jefferson  Aiken  is  not  accustomed  to  have  the  tokens 
of  his  regard  refused  in  this  fashion.  All  I  have  is 
yours,  and  more  too,  if  you  want  it." 

In  spite  of  the  grotesqueness  of  his  attempts  at  re- 
pairing his  mischief,  the  "  colonel's"  gratitude  was 
quite  sincere,  and  he  arose  to  press  upon  her  his  dime 
or  two  and  the  worthless  scrap  of  paper.  In  his  weak- 
ness he  fell,  and  she  ran  to  raise  him  to  his  chair  again. 
His  helplessness  appealed  so  keenly  to  her  ever  ready 
pity,  that  for  the  time  she  forgot  her  wrongs  and  his 
absurd  effort  to  atone  for  them. 

The  doctor,  in  no  wise  sentimental,  and  having  too 
many  engagements  on  hand,  had,  after  intimating  to 
"  Colonel"  Aiken  that  this  must  be  his  last  day,  taken 
his  leave. 

"Thank  you,  madam,"  said  the  "colonel,"  after 
taking  his  seat.  "  I  've  never  known  much  kindness, 
that 's  a  fact,  madam.  My  folks  were  or'nary  folks, 
and  used  to  kick  me,  and  cuff  me,  and  swear  at  me,  a 
good  deal.  Maybe  it  hardened  my  heart  a  little;  but 
though  I  'm  an  ugly  customah  and  I  want  everybody 
to  know  it,  and  I  like  to  have  it  put  in  thepapahs  that 
Gunnel  Jefferson  Aiken  is  an  ugly  customah,  yet  when 
it  comes  to  a  poor  woman  or  an  unhappy  child,  I  feel 
as  if  there  was  never  enough  in  my  pockets  for  them; 


A  HOUSE  OF  REFUGE.  281 

and  there  ain't  very  apt  to  be,  that 's  a  fact,  madam." 

And  then  the  "colonel"  with  needless  candor  told  the 
story  of  the  misfortunes  which,  if  you  were  to  believe 
him,  had  dogged  him  all  his  life  like  a  pack  of  hounds, 
It  was  his  luck  that  dug  the  pitfalls  into  which  he  was 
constantly  tumbling;  it  was  his  luck  that  kept  him 
poor;  deprived  him  of  employment;  and  had  at  last 
driven  him  an  outcast  and  a  vagrant,  into  the  streets. 
He  had  always  tried  to  live  an  honest,  upright,  useful 
life,  but  his  luck  thwarted  his  highest  purposes  and 
brought  to  naught  his  hardest  struggles. 

Of  course  this  went  straight  to  the  compassionate 
woman's  heart  and,  for  the  time,  obliterated  the  keen- 
ness of  the  injuries  which  she  had  suffered.  She  saw 
in  him,  as  in  herself,  only  a  victim  of  a  merciless  and 
capricious  fate  which  threw  her,  and  him,  and  other 
poor  weak  creatures,  into  the  arena  of  life,  to  be  de- 
voured by  the  wild  beasts  of  poverty  and  hunger,  in  or- 
der to  make  holiday  for  the  rich  and  the  strong — 
the  emperors  of  fortune  and  the  favorites  of  Provi- 
dence. 

"  And  you  were  not  there  to  steal?  "  she  asked. 

"No  madam.  I  have  my  faults  and  I  'm  willing  the 
world  shall  know  them,  but  I  never  yet  was  a  thief." 

"  What  possessed  you  then  to  enter  the  store  and 
to — to — ruin  my  dear  boy's  picture?" 

"  The  devil,  madam,  that 's  a  fact.  I  didn't  break  in. 
The  devil  left  the  door  open.  If  I  had  known  there 
was  a  poor  widow  and  a  fatherless  boy,  I  would  have 
cut  my  hand  off,  before  I  'd  hurt  his  pictchah;  that 's  a 
fact,  I  would  indeed,  madam.  It  's  always  my  luck, 
that 'sail." 


282  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

At  this  moment,  the  latch  of  the  gate  clinked  and 
Mrs.  Cleland  who  was  sitting  near  the  window  looked 
out.  Two  strangers  were  entering  the  yard  and  ad- 
vancing toward  the  front  door.  Alarmed  at  some 
possible  new  calamity  to  her  or  hers,  she  exclaimed: 

"What  can  they  want  here!  " 

"Who  is  it?"  asked  the  colonel. 

"Two  policemen,"  she  said,  catching  sight  of  his 
badge  as  one  of  them  passed  to  the  rear  of  the  house 
and  the  other  rang  the  bell,  which  she  arose  to  answer. 

In  all  her  life  she  had  never  had  occasion  to  come 
in  contact  with  the  custodian  element  of  the  social 
structure  and,  like  most  women,  she  had  a  natural  ter- 
ror of  the  official  embodiment  of  law.  As  she  opened 
the  door  her  heart  fluttered  and  she  could  scarcely 
speak. 

"  Good  morning,  ma'am!"  said  the  policeman,  push- 
ing past  her  and  taking  possession  of  the  parlor  into 
which  she  tremblingly  followed  him,  only  to  find  it 
empty. 

The  "colonel"  was  gone! 

"There's  a  man  in  this  house  we  want,"  said  he, 
losing  no  time  in  ceremony;  "where is  he?" 

Perhaps  it  was  her  compassion,  perhaps  a  remnant 
of  the  remorse  for  the  leaven  of  crime  seething  in  her 
breast  that  eventful  afternoon,  that  prompted  her  to 
answer: 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  Has  there  not  been  an  injured  man  by  the  name 
of  Aiken  hid  in  this  house  for  two  weeks?" 

She  hesitated  a  second.      She  had  never  in  all  her 


A  HOUSE  OF  REFUGE.  283 

life  told  a  deliberate  lie.  The  officer  noticed  her  delay 
and  said  sternly: 

"  You  must  answer!" 

"  He  was  here;  but — but — he  has  gone." 

"Then  I  shall  arrest  you  for  harboring  him  and  let- 
ting him  escape,"  he  said,  approaching  with  a  hand 
extended  toward  her  shoulder. 

The  room  whirled  around.  The  shame — the  dis- 
grace of  it — marching  through  the  streets  and  into 
the  building  which  she  had  always  associated  with  re- 
volting degradation!  shut  in  a  cell!  arraigned  with  the 
infamous  and  the  vile!  this  horrible  picture  unrolled 
itself  before  her  terror-goaded  imagination. 

She  heard  a  slight  noise  in  the  bedroom.  She  had 
but  to  speak — but  to  look  that  way,  and  save  herself 
from  this  last  and  greatest  horror;  and  yet,  with  wom- 
anly fidelity,  she  shrank  from  betraying  even  an  en- 
emy whcthad  found  a  refuge  in  her  house. 

Again  the  noise,  as  of  a  window.  He  was  escaping, 
and  even  his  betrayal  might  not  save  her,  unless  she 
spoke  at  once. 

This  time,  the  officer  heard  it  also,  and  strode  across 
the  room  to  the  bedroom  door.  Before  he  reached  it, 
it  was  flung  open,  and  a  dark,  pallid  face,  and  a  lean, 
almost  decrepid  body,  greeted  and  halted  him. 

"I  am  the  man  you  want,  sah." 

"You  're  right, "  said  the  officer. 

"Don't  lay  your  hands  on  that  innocent  woman,  sah; 
she's  a  saint,  and  it  would  well  for  you  and  me  if  there 
were  more  of  them  in  this  disgusting  world.  Have 
no  fear  about  that  lie  you  told,  madam !  It  was  as 


284  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

white  as  your  soul — whiter  even  than  your  face  is  now. 
It's  forgiven  already." 

"I  've  been  looking  for  you  for  some  time,"  replied 
the  officer,  who  was  of  a  practical  rather  than  an  ethi- 
cal turn  of  mind. 

"And  you  came  near  not  seeing  me,  as  it  was.  I 
was  half  out  of  the  window  when  I  hud  what  you 
said  to  her.  'Gunnel',  says  I,  'this  won't  do.  No  wo- 
man ever  yet  went  to  the.  lock-up  on  your  account, 
and,  be  Gahd,  its  bad  to  begin  with  a  woman  like  that. 
So  I  pulled  myself  back  and  I  '11  go  along  quietly. 
If  my  cussed  luck  ever  lets  upon  me,  madam,  I '11  have 
it  advertised  in  the  papers,  and  by  applyin'  to  the  sub- 
scribah  you  can  hear  of  something  to  your  advantage  ! 
Good-bye,  madam,  and  don't  forget  that  I  owe  you 
something  besides  an  apology." 

The  "colonel,"  again  bidding  her  farewell,  was  led 
off.  A  want  of  the  slightest  evidence  tl*at  he  had 
broken  into  the  store  ended  in  his  speedy  discharge, 
and  he  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  an  account  of  it  in 
the  next  morning's  paper.  His  eccentric  orbit  never 
again  crossed  that  of  the  woman  who  had  nursed  and 
sheltered  him,  for,  in  a  few  days,  she  departed  for  Rox- 
bury  as  poor  as  when  she  left  there  more  than  three 
years  before;  returning  with  no  prospect  but  destitu- 
tion, no  hope  but  the  grave;  meanwhile,  in  Mr.  Buu- 
kery's  words,  the  government  continued  to  be  "  run  " 
independently  of  "  business  principulls." 


IN  THE  PRESENCE.  285 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

IN  THE  PRESENCE. 

"  A  LETTER  from  Roxbury  this  morning,"  said  Law- 
rence Danforth  to  Brewster,  about  a  year  after  these 
events.  "Britton  gave  up  work  about  nine  months 
ago,  and  set  up  as  a  workingman's  leader  and  agitator. 
He  gets  a  very  comfortable  income  from  the  busi- 
ness of  making  speeches,  organizing  leagues,  and  in- 
citing strikes.  There  is  no  doubt  about  his  being  a 
mischief-maker.  That  is  what  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
that  morning  he  came  to  ask  for  an  increase  of  wages. 
Somebody  lately  overheard  him  saying  that  it  was 
time  for  the  workingmen  to  strike  for  offices  as  well 
as  wages;  that  the  offices  belonged  to  the  people,  and 
the  bulk  of  the  people  was  made  up  of  workingmen. 
He  had  saved  your  daughter's  life,  he  said,  and  you 
owed  him  a  top-notch  place,  and  he  meant  to  have  it. 
He  was  to  come  again  this  morning,  you  remember, 
sir." 

"  He  shall  have  it,"  replied  Brewster,  somewhat  in- 
consequently. 

"  His  answer,  I  suppose  you  mean,"  said  Danforth. 

"  Yes,"  said  Brewster,  proceeding  to  dictate  a  letter. 

Promptly  at  the  appointed  hour,  Britton  appeared 


286  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

in  order  to  obtain  the  office  that,  in  the  name  and 
behalf  of  the  workingmen  of  the  country,  he  had  de- 
manded a  few  days  before. 

He  walked  into  Brewster's  presence  with  a  jaunti- 
ness  and  self-possession  which,  but  for  their  evident 
use  as  a  mask  for  his  embarrassment,  might  have  been 
very  effective.  His  confusion,  however,  proceeded 
quite  as  much  from  the  novelty  of  his  situation  as 
from  any  natural  awe  of  the  authority  and  power 
wielded  by  his  former  employer. 

Theoretically,  in  this  land  of  equality,  there  is  no 
reason  for  feeling  in  the  least  abashed  at  a  fellow-being 
who,  by  an  accident  as  much  the  product  of  his  own 
foresight  as  the  wind  or  the  weather  of  the  month, 
may  have  become  the  President  of  the  United  States. 

Know  him  !  "Why  he  lived  next  door,  and  walked 
to  business  in  the  morning  with  you,  exchanging  by 
no  means  brilliant  observations  upon  the  temperature, 
the  paving-tax,  or  the  debates  in  Congress  !  In  early 
life  his  acquaintances  may  have  spoken  affectionately 
of  him  as  a  "  mutton-head."  He  may  have  been  a  by- 
no-means  renowned  young  army  officer,  or  an  obscure 
business  man  whose  name  was  closely  scrutinized  at 
the  bank,  or  a  lively  young  editor,  always  holding  out 
a  friendly  hand  or  putting  it  confidentially  upon  your 
shoulder.  Even  if  you  did  not  then  personally  know 
him,  the  stereoscope  and  the  microscope  of  the  news- 
paper reporter  have  since  put  you  in  full  possession 
of  the  solid  image  of  the  man,  his  home,  his  family, 
and  the  minutest  habits  and  structure  of  his  life,  in- 
side and  out;  so  that,  by  a  fiction  of  the  imagination? 


IN  THE  PRESENCE.  287 

lie  is,  after  all,  but  little  more  than  Jones  across  the 
way  or  Robinson  in  the  next  block. 

Actually,  however,  to  the  citizen  of  ordinary  vener- 
ation, and  a  sense  of  the  relation  of  things,  the  pres- 
ence of  the  President  of  the  United  States  is,  if  not 
imposing,  at  least  not  trivial  or  beggarly.  You  and 
I,  of  course,  are  above  performing  any  sentimental 
salaams  to  "  the  Lord's  Anointed."  We  have  an  ex- 
pert knowledge  of  the  poorness  of  the  clay  that  is  in 
him,  and  of  the  weaknesses  which,  from  his  conscience 
to  his  liver,  he  possesses  in  common  with  ourselves. 
Yet  there  are  many  of  our  fellow-citizens,  less  robust 
and  clear-sighted,  who  feel,  in  his  presence,  a  mild  and 
involuntary  sense  of  the  powers  with  which  the  chief 
executive  of  fifty  millions  of  people  is  endowed  — 
powers  more  direct  and  enormous  than  those  of  the 
monarch  of  Great  Britain,  and,  within  constitutional 
limits,  akin  to  those  of  emperors  and  czars. 

However,  little  caring  for  emperors  and  czars,  ex- 
cept as  so  many  relics  of  barbarism  and  obstacles  to 
human  happiness,  especially,  the  happiness  of  work- 
ingmen's  leaders,  Britton  was  chiefly  embarrassed  by 
his  unfamiliarity  with  the  place  and  atmosphere. 

The  President  bade  him  good  morning  with  a  deal 
of  unexpected  cordiality  and  did  not  even  add  to '  his 
embarrassment  by  waiting  for  him  to  introduce  his  ' 
errand. 

"  Your  application  for  a  position  has  been  duly  con- 
sidered, "  he  said.  "  Have  you  any  place  in  view — 
any  preference?" 

"  No  sir, "  said  Britton,  with  considerable  hesitation, 


288  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

now  that  he  was  called  upon  to  put  his  vague  demands 
into  exact  words. 

"For  what  do  you  think  yourself  best  qualified?" 
asked  the  President. 

"  I  had  n't  thought  of  that  particularly,"  said  Brit- 
ton,  after  a  short  pause.  "  The  fact  is,  I  did  n't  sup- 
pose anybody  was  asked  about  that,  "  he  innocently 
added.  "  I  thought  all  you  had  to  do  was  to  show 
you  had  influence  with  voters ;  and  I  can  show  that ; 
I  'm  chief  of  the  Eastern  "Workingmen  's  League, 
and " 

"Yes,"  said  the  President,  "that  is  very  important, 
but  it  does  not  exert  much  influence  in  politics  as  yet. 
However,  if  that  were  otherwise,  the  'prerogative  of 
the  Senate '  stands  in  the  way. " 

"What  in—"  began  Britton,  startled  by  this 
high-sounding  phrase,  and  then,  checking  himself,  ad- 
ded, "I  don  't  think  I  ever  heard  of  that  before." 

"  Then  I  will  tell  yon, "  said  Brewster  quite  gra- 
ciously. "  Senator  Perry,  of  Connecticut,  controls 
nearly  all  of  the  offices  which  it  would  be  possible  to 
give  you,  and  you  will  have  to  see  him,  and  obtain  his 
recommendation. " 

"I  thought  the  President  had  control  of  them," 
said  Britton,  who  saw  that,  inasmuch  as  he  had  no  ac- 
quaintance with  Senator  Perry,  his  chances  were  fast 
slipping  away  from  him. 

"That  is  a  popular  error,"  said  the  President. 
"  Most  of  them  belong  to  the  Senators  or  the  Repre- 
sentatives. Do  you  know  Senator  Perry?  No?  Then 
I  will  give  you  a  letter  of  introduction,  "  and  direct- 


IN  THE  PRESENCE.  280 

ing  Lawrence  to  write  him  one  and  send  to  his  address, 
the  President  turned  to  the  next  caller. 

Furnished  with  a  flattering  note,  which  declared 
that  the  President  was  under  obligations  to  the  bearer, 
who  was  worthy  of  consideration,  and  that  he  would 
be  pleased  to  have  the  senator  recommend  him  to  a 
position  included  in  his  senatorial  patronage,  Britton, 
without  delay,  set  out  for  Senator  Perry's  house. 

It  was  a  brown  stone  dwelling,  situated  on  one  of 
those  streets  in  "Washington,  which,  perhaps,  as  a 
tribute  to  the  intelligence  of  our  national  rulers,  are 
consecrated  to  the  letters  of  the  alphabet. 

He  was  shown  into  the  front  room  of  the  basement, 
which  was  used  as  an  office.  Its  furniture  consisted 
of  a  half-dozen  plain  oak  chairs,  a  green,  leather-cov- 
ered lounge,  a  steel  engraving  of  Lincoln  on  one  wall 
and  of  Grant  on  the  other,  and  a  square  writing- 
table,  on  which  a  half-opened  mail  showed  that  the 
senator  had  been  suddenly  called  away. 

Britton,  hastily  glancing  at  it  from  his  chair  near 
by,  noticed  a  sheet  ornamented  with  the  same  letter- 
head and  covered  with  the  same  handwriting  as  his 
own.  It  lay  partially  folded«on  the  desk,  as  if,  before 
fairly  opening  it,  the  senator  had  dropped  it  and  gone 
off.  Carefully  listening,  Britton,  who  ha'd  few  scru- 
ples about  such  matters,  softly  turned  down  the  fold, 
and,  without  taking  the  letter  from  the  table,  spread 
it  out  before  him.  To  his  astonishment  he  caught 
sight  of  his  own  name. 

Startled  by  approaching  footsteps,  he  awkwardly 
pushed  it  from  the  table,  whence,  fluttering  and  flying^ 
19 


A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


it  fell  at  some  distance  upon  the  floor.  He  Lad  only 
time  to  seize  it, — not  time  to  put  it  back  upon  the 
table, — before  the  door  opened.  Britton  sank  into  the 
nearest  chair  as  the  senator  came  in,  and,  slightly 
nodding,  took  his  seat  at  the  table. 

Rising  and  walking  toward  him,  Britton  thrust  the 
open  letter  into  his  pocket  and  took  out  his  own. 

The  senator,  having  opened  it  and  run  his  eye  has- 
tily over  it,  began  poking  carelessly  through  his  papers 
before  him.  But,  being  of  an  absent-minded  and 
unmethodical  habit,  he  soon  gave  up  the  search,  saying 
with  deliberation  and- long  pauses  while  overhauling 
his  mail: 

"This  is  curious.  Why  doesn't  he  give  you  a 
place  himself  and  have  done  with  it?  There  was  a 
letter  about  this,  I  think.  I  had  just  begun  reading 
it.  I  must  have  taken  it  upstairs,  though  I  don't 
recollect  it." 

Then  he  patted  his  pockets,  and  from  the  inside  of 
his  coat  took  out  a  package  of  old  letters,  which  he 
shuffled,  but  without  result. 

"Well,  it's  no  matter,  I  guess,"  he  said  finally, 
taking  up  Britton's  letter  again,  which,  after  another 
hasty  glance,  he  tossed  back  upon  the  table,  adding 
carelessly:  * 

"I  have  nothing  at  my  disposal,  and  he  knows  it. 
When  there  is  anything  I  will  let  you  know.  What 
is  your  address?  It's  of  no  consequence,  for  your 
application  is  about  fifty  deep;  but  I'll  take  it  as  a 
matter  of  form." 

Britton  in  a  surly  and  disappointed  tone  gave  it  to 


IN  THE  PRESENCE.  291 

him.  Tlis  indifferent  air  with  which  the  senator  had 
dismissed,  the  affair,  both  vexed  and  surprised  him. 
He  found  it  difficult  to  conceive  of  such  inability  to 
comprehend  the  importance  of  the  subject  which  he 
had  the  honor  of  presenting  to  the  senator's  atten- 
tion, and  was  astounded  at  the  stolid  quickness  with 
which  he  and  his  letter  had  been  dismissed.  This 
careless  man  surely  did  not  know  whom  he  was  treat- 
ing so  contemptuously.  The  open  letter  which  Brews- 
ter  had  given  him  was  evidently  not  strong  or  full 
enough.  The  senator  had  become  so  calloused  by  the 
ceaseless  importunities  of  insignificant  persons,  that 
he  had  treated  him  merely  as  one  of  the  endless  pro- 
cession of  political  beggars  and  impostors  which 
haunted  his  doors.  Brewster's  private  letter,  which 
unfortunately  was  now  in  Britton's  pocket,  undoubt- 
edly supplied  all  these  defects,  and  would  have  in- 
sured a  favorable  answer.  It  was  so  flattering  and 
urgent,  probably,  that  the  President  did  not  care  to 
have  the  representative  of  the  workingmen  know  how 
much  he  was  respected  and  feared.  He  much  regret- 
ted having  touched  it,  and  began  devising  some  scheme 
for  putting  it  into  the  senator's  hand  again,  but  he 
was  outside  of  the  house  before  he  could  invent  a  plan 
for  undoing  his  mistake.  Then  he  thought  he  would 
ring  and  tell  the  colored  man  who  would  open  the 
door,  that  he  had  picked  it  up  in  the  hall.  No,  he 
would  go  back,  and  with  that  excuse,  hand  it  to  the 
senator  himself.  But  he  might  as  well  know  what 
was  in  it  first. 

So  drawing  it  from  his  pocket,  he  stood  in  the  area, 


292  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

under   the  front  steps,  and  read.Brewster's  private 
opinion  of  him. 

DEAR  SIR:  One  Wm.  Britton,  from  Koxbury,  will  shortly  call 
upon  you.  He  is  one  of  these  pestilential  fellows  who  make  a 
business  of  agitation,  and  he  wants  some  sort  of  official  recog- 
nition, which,  for  various  reasons,  the  President  is  disposed  to 
withhold.  He  is,  however,  not  in  a  position  to  peremptorily  de- 
cline the  man's  request,  and  will  send  him  to  you  with  a  formal 
letter  of  introduction,  which  you  are  at  liberty  to  treat  as  such. 
Yours  truly,  LAWRENCE  DANFORTH. 

Puzzled  though  he  was,  by  the  official  and  indirect 
language,  Britton  caught  its  purport  easily  enough, 
and  in  his  rage  tore  the  letter  into  such  small  frag- 
ments that  the  senator's  steps  and  sidewalk  looked  as 
if,  in  the  language  of  the  weather  bureau,  they  had 
been  the  victim  of  a  "  local  snows.  "  Once  or  twice, 
he  swore  aloud,  attracting  the  attention  of  the  passen- 
gers. His  first  impulse  was  to  betake  himself  to  the 
executive  mansion  and  vent  his  wrath  upon  Brewster; 
but,  even  if  he  really  contemplated  the  wild  scheme, 
it  was  too  late  in  the  day  to  gain  admission. 

He  raved  all  the  more  at  this  balking  of  his  plans, 
because,  owing  to  his  ignorance  of  the  "  machine, "  he 
was  at  the  end  of  his  resources.  He  did  not  know  that, 
like  the  spinning-machine  with  which  he  was-  famil- 
iar, the  political  "machine"  has  its  laws  and  prin- 
ciples, in  accordance  with  which  it  is  operated;  that 
only  a  long  apprenticeship  and  service  to  it,  can  make 
one  the  master  of  it;  and  that  those  who  have  learned 
the  trade  of  "running  "  it,  object  to  sharing  with  out- 
siders the  profits  thereof,  even  as  the  spinners  and 
weavers  oppose  the  employment  of  those  who  do  not 


IN  THE  PRESENCE.  293 

belong  to  their  unions,  and  do  nothing  to  promote  their 
welfare. 

Britton,  with  ambition  out  of  all  proportion  to  his 
abilitty  and  experience,  was  filled  with  rancor  by 
his  failure  as  well  as  by  his  discovery  of  the  con- 
temptuous terms  in  which  Brewster  had  described  him 
in  the  letter  that  was  intended  to  throw  upon  Senator 
Perry's  shoulders  the  responsibility  of  refusing  him. 
He  had  boasted  so  loudly,  too,  of  his  influence  and 
its  probable  recognition  from  Brewster  that  he  dread- 
ed to  go  back  to  Eoxbury.  However,  revenge  still 
remained,  and  to  some  natures  the  gratification  of  this 
passion  is  scarcely  less  agreeable  than  the  accomplish- 
ment of  their  plans. 


294  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

HOW  WATER  RAN  UP  HILL. 

ON  approaching  Roxbury  by  the  train  one  might 
at  this  time  have  easily  mistaken  a  week-day  for  a 
holiday  or  a  holy  day.  There  was  an  oppressive  and 
supernatural  silence  peculiar  to  manufacturing  towns 
on  days  when  the  bells  might  well  be  nothing  but 
painted  images  of  themselves,  when  the  clashing 
shuttles  of  the  looms  are  dumb,  and  the  spinning 
jennies  no  longer  clatter  and  sing. 

About  the  cottages  and  tenement-houses  of  the  op- 
eratives as  well  as  the  saloons  and  the  billiard  halls, 
hung  groups  of  men,  talking,  whittling,  and  jesting. 
Here  and  there  they  were  engaged  in  wrestling  or 
horse-play,  or  amusing  themselves  with  practical  jokes 
upon  one  another.  In  the  streets  one  perceived  that 
leisurely  bustle  of  an  idle  crowd  so  different  in  its  as- 
pects from  the  bustle  of  a  busy  one. 

Such,  during  the  past  year,  had  been  the  situation 
in  Hoxbury  for  weeks  at  a  time,  and  in  this  feverish 
and  boisterous  state  of  affairs  Britton  had  found  both 
materials  for  his  activity  and  stimulants  for  his  am- 
bition. 

The  increase  of  the  currency  was  followed  by  its  in- 


HOW  WATER  BAN  UP  HILL.  295 

evitable  results.  Prices  began  rising.  Merchants  and 
speculators  attended  to  that  part  of  the  affair.  Wages, 
as  always,  limped  behind.  The  law  acted  with  im- 
partial indifference  to  all  points  of  the  compass  ; — 
]S"orth  and  South,  East  and  "West;  among  the  opera- 
tives of  Roxbury  and  the  farmers  on  the  prairie. 

Even  Mrs.  Cranage,  Bunkery's  female  disciple  in 
the  science  of  political  economy,  received  additional 
enlightenment  upon  the  subject,  when,  one  morning 
after  she  had  scalded  the  milk  pans  and  set  them  out 
to  dry,  a  stranger  in  a  brightly  varnished  buggy  drove 
into  the  yard. 

"  What  '11  you  take  for  all  the  stock  you  can  spare, 
Mrs.  Cranage? "  he  asked  jumping  out  of  his  buggy. 

Flattered  at  hearing  an  utter  stranger  call  her  by 
name,  she  replied  in  easy  good  nature: 

"I  dunuo;  how  much  's  t  'wuth?  " 

"  I  'in  giving  fifteen  cents  a  pound,"  said  he. 

"Fifteen  cents!"  cried  Mrs.  Cranage,  in  the  aston- 
ishment naturally  arising  from  her  neglect  of  prices 
current. 

The  stranger  was  sorry  that  he  had  not  offered  twelve. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  cash  down." 

"Wai,  wal!"  she  muttered,  "ef  thet  ain't  the  beat 
o'  all  creation." 

"How  many  can  you  let  me  have?  "asked  the 
stranger. 

"  Wal,  I  allow  I  ken  let  yuh  hev  three  critters." 

'"  Yery  well,  I  '11  take  them*"  ' 

They  were  duly  weighed  and  nearly  four  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  put  into  her  hand. 


296  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"  Laws-a-mas',  what 's  a  comin'  to  us ! "  slie  ex- 
claimed, scarcely  believing  her  senses  as  she  sat 
smoothing  out  and  folding  the  new,  crisp,  pretty  bills, 
counting  them  over  for  the  fourth  or  fifth  time  and 
wondering  what  she  should  do  with  it  all. 

"Mr.  Bunkery  knew  fur  keeps  what  he  was  talkin' 
about  arter  all,"  she  soliloquized.  "  Thet  's  my  ideer 
now  of  pretty  good  times.  Itecl  good  times  ud  be 
when  critters  is  wuth  twenty  cents  and  caliker  five 
cents.  But  caliker  uz  raither  up  las'  time  I  uz  over 
to  Injannerville.  P'raps  its  dumb  down  a  peg.  1  '11 
drive  Josh  over  this  arternoon  and  put  this  in  the 
bank,  and  then  I  '11  stock  up." 

In  order  not  to  be  tempted  into  extravagances,  she 
went  first  to  the  bank  and  deposited  nearly  the  whole 
of  her  money.  The  cashier  did  not  stare,  as  she  ex- 
expected  he  would,  at  the  size  of  her  deposit,  but  en- 
tering the  amount  in  her  pass-book,  handed  it  back  to 
her  without  any  signs  of  emotion.  With  twenty-five 
dollars  she  betook  herself  to  Dunham's  store  resolved 
upon  a  long,  delightful  afternoon's  rummage  among 
the  goods,  and  a  taxing  to  the  verge  of  rebellion  the 
patience  of  the  clerk,  distinguished  for  his  red  eyes, 
paper  collar,  checked  pantaloons,  and  alpaca  coat. 

" I  want  ten  pounds  of  sugar,"  she  said.  "How 
much  is  it?" 

"  Fifty  cents,"  replied  the  young  man. 

Her  eyes  danced  with  the  pleasure  which  every 
woman  feels  at  the  consciousness  of  a  good  bargain. 
Her  "reel  good  times "  had  come.  Sugar  only  five 
cents  a  pound,  "critters",  fifteen. 


HOW  WATER  BAN  UP  HILL.  297 

"I  'in  afeard  he's  a  blunderin',"  she  said  to  herself. 
<kHe  looks  stoopid." 

"  Be  thet  first-rate? "  she  asked,  pointing  to  some 
packages  of  coffee. 

"  Prime,  we  're  selling  it  fur  a  dollar." 

"  Coffee  down  too,"  she  thought.  "  What 's  Horn- 
by the  bar'l?"  she  continued. 

"  Fourteen  dollars!"  said  he. 

"  You  don't  hear  stret,  I  reckon;  I  said  a  bar'l,  not 
a  waggin'  load." 

"  Fourteen  dollars  a  bar'l,  mum." 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Dunham,  the  proprietor,  en- 
tered. She  did  not  stop  even  to  return  his  civil  "  good 
afternoon,"  but  cried  out: 

"  Deeken,  ye  don't  mean  fur  ter  tell  me  to  iny  face 
that  flour 's  fourteen  dollars  a  bar'l  ?" 

The  deacon,  frowning  at  the  clerk,  asked: 

"Who said  t'wuz?  That  lunk-head  over  thar?  Hej 
yuli  ben  atellin'  her  flour  's  fourteen  dollars  a  bar'l?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  young  man. 

"  Yuh  '11  be  the  ruination  on  me.  Did  n't  I  read  it 
out  o'  the  paper  this  mornin'  thet  flour  's  fifteen  dol- 
lars a  bar'l.  I  '11  gin  ynh  fifty  cents  to  let  me  off, 
mum.  Thet 's  what  a  green  un  like  him  costs  a 
man." 

"Fifteen  dollars  a  bar'l!"  she  exclaimed;  "Ef  ynh 
wa'n't  a  pillar  o'  the  church,  I  sh'uld  say,  deaken, 
ynh  wuz  acheatin'  a  poor  widder  outer  her  eye  teeth." 

"  Thar  't  is,  mum,"  said  the  proprietor,  showing  her 
the  paper. 

Putting  on  her  glasses,  she  scrutinized  it,  as  the  re- 


298  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

nowned  college  pr  fessor  is  said  to  have  studied  a 
Greek  manuscript,  in  a  vain  endeavor  to  distinguish 
a  comma  from  a  fly-speck. 

"  Everything  a  kitin',"  said  the  deacon;  and  Mrs. 
Cranage  slowly  began  to  understand  the  situation.  It 
was  not  "critters"  alone  that  were  "up,"  everything 
was  "  up."  The  calico  she  expected  to  get  for  at  least 
fifteen  cents,  was  forty;  the  coffee  was  a  dollar  a  pound, 
not  a  package,  and  everything  else  in  proportion. 

"  Let 's  see,"  she  said,  the  tears  almost  coming  into 
her  eyes  at  her  vexation,  sense  of  loss,  and  general 
anxiety;  "  How  much  d'  I  owe  yuh  now?" 

"  Twenty-six,  twenty,"  answered  the  clerk,  after  fig- 
uring the  sum  on  a  sheet  of  brown  wrapping-paper. 
One  would  have  said  the  poor  woman  imagined  her- 
self in  a  den  of  thieves,  and  was  looking  about  for  a 
way  of  escape. 

"How 's  thet?"  she  asked  in  desperation,  and  he 
gave  her  the  items,  which  were  as  forlorn  as  the  totals. 
"  Goodness,  gracious,  deaken !     What  are  wre  comin' 
to,  when  yuh  grind  us  down  like- thet?" 

"  I  grind  yuh  down!"  exclaimed  Deacon  Dunham, 
"  when  i  don't  know  from  one  day  t'  another  how 
much  I  shall  be  a  pay  in'  for  goods?  p'raps  more  hull- 
sale  than  I  git  now  re-tail.     Golly,  mum!  but  you've 
got  to  put  on  the  prices  to  keep  in  sight  on  'em,  or 
yuh  '11  be  lasted  higher  'n  Gilderoy's  kite." 
Mrs.  Cranage  went  home  a  wiser  woman. 
And  following  all  this  was  the  collapse  and  a  repe- 
tition  of  the   experience  wrhich   nations   always  go 
through  after  periods  of  speculation  and  expansion. 


GETTING  EVEN.  299 


CHAPTEE  XXXII. 

GETTING  EVEN. 

IT  was  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  that  Britton, 
alighting  from  the  train  at  Rpxbnry,  made  his  way 
down  the  street  to  his  lodgings  at  a  small  hotel  situ- 
ated in  an  obscure  and  not  particularly  agreeable 
neighborhood,  a  short  distance  from  the  station. 

After  depositing  his  luggage  he  betook  himself  to 
Kaiser's  beer-hall,  now  the  most  flourishing  place  of 
business  in  town  and  more  than  compensating  its 
owner  for  the  loss  of  his  "  bozd-ovvis." 

The  atmosphere  of  the  room  was  thick  with  smoke, 
while  stains  of  tobacco  juice  were  dyeing  the  sawdust, 
new  and  pure  that  morning,  into  a  by -no  means  pleas- 
ing imitation  of  tan-bark.  The  tabbs  were  covered 
with  dominoes  and  puddles  of  beer.  Kaiser  stood 
with  one  hand  constantly  upon"  the  ebony  handle  of 
his  beer  pump,  while  the  thumb  and  finger  of  the 
other  swept  from  the  punctured  brass  drainer  in 
front  of  him,  six  or  eight  glasses  at  once,  plunged  them 
into  the  sink  behind  the  counter,  and,  after  their  bath, 
dexterously  brought  them  under  the  faucet  whence  he 
filled  them  once  more. 

A  look  of  curiosity  and  interest,  though  scarcely  of 


300  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

pleasure,  greeted  Britton  from   the  score  and  odd  of 
faces  which  looked  up  to  him  on  his  entering. 

"Well  Britton!  what  luck?"  asked  Jay  cox  who, 
shortly  after  Brewster's  iinal  refusal  to  take  him  into 
his  employment,  had,  through  Mr.  Stratton's  inter- 
vention, obtained  a  place  elsewhere. 

"  Look 's  if  he  'uz  going  to  go  as  a  'bas'dore  to  the 
Heathen  Chinee,"  said  Harmon  from  behind  his  hedge 
of  tangled  whiskers.  "  Got  to  eat  pups  with  the  washee- 
washees,  Britton  ? " 

The  disappointed  office-seeker  scowled  a  little  and 
said  with  a  slight  irritation. 

"You'd  better  ask  me  what  I'm  going  to  drink; 
eatin  's  gettin'  too  expensive." 

"There's  some  truth  in  that"  said  Jaycox;  "when 
a  man's  spent  his  week's  wages  he's  hardly  enough 
left  in  his  house  to  feed  a  cat,  let  alone  his  wife  and 
children.  Seem 's  if  every  butcher  and  grocer  in  the 
city  just  slapped  on  the  prices  when  they  see  you  com- 
ing Saturday  night.  By  the  time  we  get  what  we're 
striking  for  now,  prices  '11  be  just 'as  much  above  wages 
as  they  were  a  month  ago.  I  always  said  'twould  be 
so,  though  I  don  't  know  that  there  's  much  consola- 
tion in  that." 

"  Tell  us  what  come  of  it! "  urged  Harmon,  return- 
ing to  the  subject  of  Britten's  visit  to  the  capital. 

"  You  '11  see  what  '11  come  of  it,  before  you  're 
much  older, "  said  Britton,  declining  further  explana- 
tion, except  to  add,  "it's  something  that  '11  help  you 
all." 

a  I  wisk 'twould  hurry  up,"  said  a  faded,  weak- voiced, 


GETTING  EVEN.  301 


little  man  with  a  tippet  of  sandy  whiskers  under  his 
chin.  "I  've  been  lookin'  for  it  every  mornin'  this 
forty  year,  and  hain't  seen  it  yit." 

"You  '11  see  it,"  said  Britton  with  the  assured  tone 
of  an  astronomer  predicting  an-eclipse,  "but  the  more 
we  pull  together  the  sooner  it  '11  come." 

There  was  something  pathetic  in  the  gleam  of  hope 
which  illuminated  the  faces  of  some  of  these  eager  lis- 
teners. There  were  a  few  indolent  and  worthless  fel- 
lows, in  whose  idea1  society  everybody  but  themselves 
was  to  do  the  work ;  but,  for  the  most  part,  they  were  h  on . 
est  men  whose  most  diligent  thought  and  labor  in 
adding  up  their  gains,  left  them  only  a  "naught"  of  cash 
for  this  week's  column  and  a  "  ten"  of  care  to  carry  to  the 
next;'and  who,  as  the  result  of  this  arithmetic,  were  al- 
ways put  on  the  wrong  side  of  that  decimal  point 
which  divides  the  wealthy  units  from  the  needy  frac- 
tions. 

"In  the  meanwhile,"  continued  Jaycox,  "there's 
pale  pinched  faces,  and  thin  lips,  and  eyes  with  tears 
in  them.  I  know  what  I  shall  find  in  one  house  some 
morning — it  '11  be  white  and  cold;  just  a  mask  of  skin 
over  the  bones;  a  poor  wan  body  under  the  coverlid, 
if  there  is  one,  and  a  deformed  boy  barely  kept  alive 
by  his  mother's  love." 

He  spoke  so  solemnly  that  for  a  moment  there  was 
silence  in  the  room,  which,  availing  himself  of  the  sym- 
pathy and  curiosity  these  words  excited,  Britton  broke 
by  exclaiming: 

"It 's  these  capitalists, — always  looking  out  for  their 
own  interests." 


302  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"Well,  so  far  as  I  know,  everybody  looks  out  for  his 
own  interest,"  replied  Jay  cox. 

"Somebody 's  got  to  look  after  mine,  or  I  shall  have  to 
chuck  my  wife  and  young  uns  into  the  river,"  said  Har- 
mon in  a  matter-of-fact  tone  as  if  it  were  a  method  for 
solving  such  difficulties  habitual  with  him.  "It's  all 
along  uv  us  workin'  to  fatten  sommun  else.  '  T would 
raise  a  rumpus,  now  wouldn't  it,  to  fill  up  that  iar  eel- 
hole  with  'em?  Those  eight  corpusses  would  make 
more  ov  a  racket  than  they  gen'lly  duz.  Folks  "d  say 
'  here,  suthin  's  wrong,'  an'  would  begin  to  stomp 
about  a  bit,  and  give  poor  critters  a  lift;  that  would  n't 
help  the  ole  women  and  the  little  uns,  with  their  ribs 
a  showin'  through  like  the  lath  where  the  plasterin'  's 
broke  off,  in  the  shanty  we  're  in  this  week,  tho'  where 
we'll  be  next,  onless  'tis  in  the  eel-hole,  I  dunno. 
'T  would  n't  put  any  fat  on  their  bones,  would  it?" 

"Can't  say's  'twould,"  said  the  faded  little  man. 

"No,"  continued  Harmon;  "folks  as  was  still  high 
and  dry  might  be  better  for 't;  but  'twould  n't  be  any 
water  on  our  wheel.  So  I  ain't  quite  ready  fur  to  put 
the  old  'oman  and  the  chicks  to  soak,  just  to  help  them 's 
ain't  no  wusser  off 'n  I  be.  But  there 's  a  way  of  mak- 
in'  folks  ask  about  you  without 's  it  costin'  you  a 
cent." 

«  What 's  .that? "  asked  tne  faded  little  man. 

But  Harmon  contented  himself  with  shaking  his 
head  as  if  he  were  not  yet  quite  ready  to  impart  his. 
portentous  secret. 

There  was,  however,  a  general  murmur  approving 
his  plan  of  relief,  whatever  it  might  be;  for  to  them 


GETTING  EVEN.  303 


the  relief  seemed  to  be  of  far  more  importance  than 
the  method. 

Britton  at  once  perceived  this  mood,  and  nothing 
better  suited  his  present  purpose  of  avenging  himself 
on  Brewster. 

"  "When  they  train  men  for  a  fight,  I  s '  pose  you 
know,"  he  said,  rising,  putting  his  foot  upon  his  chair, 
and  resting  an  elbow  upon  his  knee,  "they  begin  by 
dietin'  'em— takin'  the  flesh'  right  off  of  'em.  That's 
what* your  masters  are  doin'  for  you,  I  see.  You're 
gettin  '  thinner  and  thinner,  every  day.  " 

He  drew  out  his  words  with  bitter  distinctness  and 
smiled  sarcastically. 

"Thinner  and  thinner  every  day,"  he  repeated, 
"until  you  get  down  to  the  fighting  point.  Then 
they  '11  send  for  the  police  or  the  soldiers  and  shoot 
you  for  wanting  to  put  something  into  your  empty 
stomachs  and  the  empty  stomachs  of  your  wives  and 
young  uns.  I  s  'pose  you  '11  slink  away — those  who 
haven't  bullets  in  their  heads  or  their  skulls  cracked 
— and  stick  to  the  slavery  in  which  they  hold  you. 
And  yet  standing  right  over  there  is  a  big  mill  that 
can  turn  out  enough  to  support  every  man,  woman, 
and  child  of  you  all.  And  why  don't  it?  Because  it 
has  to  build  and  warm  the  big  house,  and  load  the  rich 
table,  and  soften  the  easy  beds  of  half  a  dozen  people, 
while  you  shiver  in  your  shanties  and  eat  your  corn 
meal  if  your  stomachs  can  stand  it,  or  go  without 
food  if  they  can't." 

These  words,  made  still  more  bitter  and  emphatic 
by  the  hatred  which  inspired  them  and  which  lit  up  his 


304:  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

face,  aroused  the  passions  slumbering  in  the  breasts  of 
those  who  needed  only  a  spark  to  explode  the  discon- 
tent which  hunger  and  want  had  rendered  savage  and 
murderous  within  them. 

"We'll  stand  by  you,"  said  Frank  Harmon,  the 
broad-chested,  deep-voiced  operative,  big  and  hairy, 
with  his  round  face  and  long  upper  jaw,  against  which 
he  snapped  his  lower  one  with  an  almost  animal 
ferocity. 

"What  can  we  dof"  asked  the  faded  little  man,  not 
exactly  with -timidity,  but  apparently  for  enlighten- 
ment. 

"Do!  Do!"  echoed  Britton.  "Stand  square  on 
your  feet  and  say,  this  earth  is  mine!  I  was  born  on 
it.  I  have  an  equal  right  with  every  other  man  to  all 
that's  on  it.  If  they- won't  give  it  to  you,  taJte  it/" 
Who  is  it  tells  you  you  shall  have  two  or  three  dollars 
a  day,  while  he  takes  twenty,  or  thirty,  or  fifty?  He 
was  born,  and  he  will  die,  as  naked  as  you." 

"  Be  jabers,  the  divil  will  ketch  him,  ainy  how," 
said  Irish  Larry. 

"  I  don't  know  nothing  about  that,  and  you  don't," 
said  Britton.  "But  that  reminds  me.  They  like  to 
teach  you  that  you  're  laying  up  something  here  which 
you  can  spend  in  the  next  world.  We  can't  give  you 
what  belongs  to  you  here,  they  say ;  we  're  very  sorry — 
and  Oh  !  awfully  sorry  they  are,  to  be  sure — but  the 
law  of  supply  and  demand  you  know,  forbids  it.  We  'd 
like  to  repeal  this  law,  but  we  can't.  God  Almighty 
made  it,  and  he  won't  abolish  it.  But  he  '11  square  the 
account  with  you  in  the  next  world.  You  '11  have 


GETTING  EVEN.  305 


your  innings  then.  If  you  're  good  and  won  't  make 
a  fnss,  you  'tt  have  a  good  time  then.  But  I  notice 
they  're  mighty  careful  to  take  theirs  now.  They  'd 
like  to  have  you  trust  the  Almighty,  but  they  won't: 
I  don't  blame  them.  I  don't  myself,  and  I  don't 
mean  to.  They  're  too  smart  to  wait.  They  like  to 
take  things — good  things — as  they  come  along,  and 
for  one,  I'm  going  to  do  it  too.  Their  Almighty,  I 
notice,  is  the  Almighty  who,  according  to  their  tell, 
put  you  here,  poor  and  hungry,  and  set  you  to  work  so 
they  may  lie  idle;  and  you're  not  to  find  fault,  but  if 
it  grinds  you,  and  starves  you,  and  freezes  you,  you  're 
to  go  off  to  some  hole  and  die,  and  not  make  them 
feel  uncomfortable  with  your  sufferings.  " 

There  was  visible  among  some  of  them  an  evident 
shock  at  the  impiety  thus  boldly  uttered.  They 
shrank  away  from  him  a  little,  as  if  they  were  fright- 
ened, for  they  were  staggered  at  his  audacious  chal- 
lenge of  all  that  they  had  been  taught  to  regard  as 
sacred.  Some  remembered  that  the  priests  had 
warned  them  against  such  men  as  this  Britton. 

"An'  don't  you  belave  in  God?"  asked  one  of  tie 
more  devout  among  them. 

"I  don't  believe  in  anything  that  I  can't  see,  feel, 
taste,  touch,  or  smell,  "  he  replied.  "  I  believe  in  this 
world.  I  believe  in  enjoying  yourself  while  you  have, 
a  chance.  I  don't  know  anything  about  another 
world.  I  believe  it's  an  invention  of  these  people  who 
plunder  us.  They  act  just  like  folks  that  don't  want 
to  be  bothered  with  their  children.  You  're  too  young, 
they  say,  to  have  this,  or  do  that,  as  we  do.  When 
20 


306  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

you  are  grown  up,  you  can  have  a  good  time.  And  so 
these  folks  put  us  off  with  these  fables  about  how  it  is 
going  to  be  hereafter.  I  believe  in  cash  down.  Let 
them  wait  for  the  fun. " 

"  But  they  've  got  the  cash,  and  we  have  n't,"  said 
the  faded  man. 

"  No,  and  you  never  will  till  you  show  'em  you  're 
going  to  have  it.  If  they  won't  give  you  your  share, 
take  theirs  away  from  them.  If  their  mills  grind  so 
you  get  the  bran  and  they  get  the  flour,  make  'em 
build  'em  so  '&  they'll  grind  even." 

"That's  the  talk! "  "That  »s  the  talk!"  "We're  in 
for  that!"  "Let's  do  it  to-night!"  cried  several 
voices. 

"No,"  said  Britton,  with  a  cunning  look;  "  not  to- 
night;— nor  to-morrow  night,"  he  added,  after  a  pause; 
"  we  want  to  be  sure  of  success.  We  must  make  it 
warm  for  them  everywhere  at  once." 

"  That 's  impossible,"  said  the  faded  man. 

"  Nothing 's  impossible,"  said  Britton — "  except  one 
end  to  a  stick." 

They  laughed,  and  he  added: 

"  They  're  like  a  bully  at  school  when  I  was  a  lad. 
He  'd  thump  a  bit  of  taffy  out  of  one  little  chap, 
snatch  a  raisin  or  two  from  summun  else,  pull  some 
chesnuts  out  of  another  feller's  pocket,  an'  by  the  time 
he  got  clear  'round  he  'd  a  better  luncheon  than  any- 
body he  'd  stole  it  from,  an'  it  hadn't  cost  him  a  pen- 
ny, neither.  Capital 's  the  bully,  and  we  're  the  boys 
a-fattenin'  on  him  up." 

"  Then  we  '11  thump  back,"  said  Harmon,  grimly; 


GETTING  EVEN.  307 


"  an'  I  don't  believe  in  everybody's  waitin'  for  every- 
body else.  You  have  a  sprinkle  right  here;  an'  afore 
it 's  through  it  '11  be  rainin'  hard  everywhere." 

Britton  made  no  reply,  but  beckoning  to  Harmon, 
walked  out  of  the  beer  hall. 

"  Britton  's  the  first  chap  to  be  making  trouble  and 
the  last  to  stand  up  to  the  rack  when  it  comes  to  the 
pinch,"  said  Jaycox,  after  the  two  had  gone.  "  If  you  're 
fools  enough  to  let  him  stir  you  up  as  he  's  trying  to, 
you  '11  see  him  slide  right  out  from  under,  and  say  he 
told  you  not  to  go  so  fast  or  so  far." 

But  this  caution  was  coolly  greeted,  and  with  his 
uncle,  Cleland,  whom  he  brought  along  to  hearten  him 
up  with  beer,  Jaycox  went  home. 

As  he  parted  with  the  old  man,  he  said  to  him: 

"  Be  sure  and  tell  Adelaide  that  Miss  Winifred  Brew- 
ster  came  home  from  Europe  this  week,  and  I  hear 
she 's  not  going  to  stay  in  Roxbury  many  days,  but 
will  be  off  for  "Washington." 


308  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

A  LONG  FRIENDSHIP  ENDED. 

WINIFRED,  of  course,  Lad  not  been  in  JRoxbury 
three  hours  before  Dean  Stratton  made  his  appearance 
and  was  warmly  welcomed. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  thought  I  was  taking  my  time 
about  calling  on  you,"  he  said  jestingly  after  their 
first  greetings  were  over. 

"Perhaps,  rather,  I  "was  afraid  you  might  take  my 
time,"  she  replied,  smiling  at  him. 

"  "Well,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  came  the  moment  I 
heard  you  had  arrived.  Business  before  pleasure,  I 
said  to  myself,  and  set  off  at  once." 

"  How  do  you  tell  them  apart?"  she  asked  with  the 
delightful  laugh  which  always  recalled  to  him  the  sun- 
ny memories  of  their  young  days. 

Dean  blushed  a  little  at  this,"perhaps  unintentional, 
jest  at  his  unenergetic  prosecution  of  his  profession. 

"  Well,"  said  he  rallying,  "  it  is  a  pleasure  to  come 
and  see  you,  and  your  business  to  entertain  those  who 
do  so." 

"  I  retired  from  that  business  a  year  ago," 

"  And  you  are  going  back  to  it  at  once." 

"  O,  yes,  I  have  had  a  year's  vacation ;  and  I  am 


A  LONG  FRIENDSHIP  ENDED.  309 

anxious  to  see  father  again.  I  stopped  only  to  make 
sure  that  everything  was  in  order  here." 

"  It  seems  dull  enough,  I  take  it,  after  three  years 
of  excitement,"  said  Dean  jealously. 

"  O  yes,"  she  answered,  a  trifle  piqued  but  a 
good  deal  amused,  at  his  tone,  "  excitement  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  a  giddy  girl  like  me,  and  these 
common-place  country  folks  bore  me  intolerably  after 
the  brilliant  people  1  have  been  accustomed  to." 

And  thereupon  she  smiled  at  both  his  and  her  own 
absurdity. 

"  It  is  hard  I  know,"  he  continued,  "but  yen  will 
have  to  put  up  with  me  here;  there's  really  nothing 
better,  I  assure  you." 

"  O,  you  will  do  very  well  here"  said  she;  "  of  course 
it  would  bother  me  to  dispose  of  you  in  Washington." 

"  I  believe  you  really  mean  it,"  said  Dean,  with  a 
pretended  frown.  "  You  would  think  me  shabby  tind 
put  me  in  a  corner  to  entertain  the  Congressman's 
daughter  from  the  Pottawatomie  district,  while  you 
were  flirting  with  some  jack-a-napes  in  epaulettes,  or 
some  ass  with  a  lot  of  trinkets  strung  outside  of  him." 

"  I  would  be  obliged  to  make  it  agreeable  for  my 
guests,  certainly.  The  Pottawatomie  girl  would  en- 
joy herself  in  your  company,  and  the  jack-a-napes, 
as  you  are  pleased  to  call  my  charming  acquaintance, 
would  enjoy  himself  in  mine." 

"  Well,  he  can 't  come  here,  I  want  him  to  under- 
stand that,"  said  Dean,  in  his  boyish,  hearty  manner 
of  old.  "  I  will  make  it  very  disagreeable  for  him." 

"  O,  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  she  responded.     "  But 


310  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

that  will  give  me  a  refreshing  variety,  for  I  have 
met  only  charming  and  interesting  people  lately." 

"  You  flatter  me,  Winny,"  he  said,  calling  her  by 
the  familiar  name  of  their  youth.  "  I  would  not 
wonder  if  you  were  sorry  I  can't  speak  broken 
English." 

"  O  yes,  I  am,"  she  answered  with  a  sober  face,  but 
eyes  full  of  merriment.  "  It  is  so  much  more  fascinat- 
ing. If  you  could  only  bend  it  a  little,  even,  it  would 
be  better  than  nothing.  There  is  the  secretary  of  the 
— I  think  I  won't  tell  you  which  legation.  I  used  to 
smatter  politics  and  science  to  him  just  to  hear  him 
pronounce  the  hard  words.  It  was  a  comedy  of 
itself  to  hear  him  say  devil-ope-ment.  He  was  at 
dinner  one  day  where  old  Senator  Simondson  hap- 
pened to  be  present.  People  suspect  the  senator's 
literary  education  began  pretty  late  in  life.  Well, 
my  friend,  the  secretary,  went  away  early,  and  after 
he  had  left,  I  overheard  the  senator  say  to  his  neigh- 
bor, 'Yes,  raythur  talkative;  but  don't  you  think 
he's  jest  a  leetle  off  in  his  pro-noun-ciatiou?' " 

And  "Winifred  laughed  at  the  recollection,  Dean 
joining  her  with  great  heartiness. 

"  Seriously,  Winny,"  he  said,  "  I  was  a  donkey  to 
feel  so;  but  I  thought  'she 's  too  proud  to  care  for  her 
old  friends ' — that  week  I  was  there  and  you  had  gone 
away  after  knowing  I  was  to  be  there." 

"  No,  Dean,  you  don't  do  yourself  any  injustice, 
calling  yourself  stupid  names.  The  letter  came  the 
very  day  I  left,  and  I  was  disappointed  enough  when 
I  got  it  afterward  and  knew  I  had  missed  your  visit. 


A  LONG  FRIENDSHIP  ENDED.  311 

But  I  was  not  at  all  strong,  and  father  insisted  on  my 
going.  You  must  think  meanly  of  me,  Dean,  if  you 
suppose  that  under  any  circumstances  I  could  forget 
old  friends." 

"  I  owned  up  I  was  a  donkey,  to  begin  with,"  said 
Dean,  penitently,  "and  I  was;  but  you  see  it  was  a 
good  while  since  I  had  seen  you,  and " 

He  stopped,  for  he  noticed  that  she  looked  hurt.  As 
he  watched  her,  pensive  in  the  fire-light,  her  face  soft- 
ened and  illuminated  in  the  glow  of  the  dancing  flames, 
the  memories  of  the  many  pleasures  and  the  little 
griefs  which  their  common  childhood  had  known, 
his  life-long  care  for  her,  and  his  tender  interest  in  her, 
suddenly  ripened  into  a  burst  of  passionate  yearning. 

They  were  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then,  out  of  the 
fullness  of  his  heart;  he  spoke: 

"  I  can't  think  of  anybody  's  caring  for  you,  or  of 
your  wanting  anybody  to  care  for  you  except  me,  dear 
Winifred!" 

She  wanted  to  look  up  to  him  with  the  frank  and 
affectionate  face  she  had  always  been  wont  to  show 
him;  but  this  revelation,  answering  to  one  in  her  own 
heart,  disarmed  her  of  the  protecting  friendship  and 
confidence  whereby  their  intimate  and  unconstrained 
intercourse  had  hitherto  been  possible. 

Her  deepening  blushes  and  her  down -cast  eyes  that 
both  hid  and  betrayed  the  fond  glances  she  could  not 
wholly  restrain,  filled  him  with  unspeakable  delight  at 
these  silent,  sweet  avowals  of  her  heart. 

"  It  seems  as  if  I  had  always  loved  you,  my  dar- 
ling," he  said  suddenly;  "loved  you  all  the  more  when 


312  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

I  was  afraid  you  did  not  care  for  me,  but  had  grown 
quite  away  from  me.  Winifred,  darling,  I  have  never 
loved  any  one  but  you.  "When  you  were  away,  when 
I  have  been  away,  the  absence  has  always  saddened  me; 
the  thought  of  seeing  you  again  has  always  made  my 
heart  beat  faster  with  the  gladness.  I  want  the  right 
to  care  for  you  always  as  I  did  years  ago,  dear  "VVinny ; 
may  I  not  have  that  right,  dear,  dear  Winifred?  " 

She  could  not  or  did  not  speak;  but  she  let  her  hand 
fall  with  tender  unconsciousness  into  his.  Sinking 
beside  her,  he  drew  her  gently  toward  himself,  whis- 
pering once  more: 

"Darling!  " 

She  answered  so  softly  that  it  was  lil^e  the  good- 
night twitter  of  a  nestling  bird.  Folding  her  in  his 
arms  he  sealed  their  long,  long  friendship  with  a  fer- 
vent kiss  of  passion  on  the  lips  he  had  not  touched, 
since  they  went  frolicking  to  school  together,  many  a 
year  before. 

And  though  he  had  little  doubt  of  his  welcome  after 
that,  he  •  used  to  go  very  often,  sometimes  twice  or 
thrice  a  day,  probably  to  assure  himself  that  in  the 
meanwhile  she  had  not  forgotten  him. 


SOCIAL  EQUALITY.  31! 


CHAPTEK  XXX1Y. 

SOCIAL  EQUALITY. 

THE  day  after  Britton's  return  and  his  harangue  at 
the  beer  hall,  was  Sunday,  but  only  the  greater  num- 
ber of  people  in  the  streets  marked  the  difference  in 
the  aspect  of  Roxbury. 

Britton  and  Harmon,  after  holding  a  conference, 
which  they  had  adjourned  from  the  previous  evening, 
were  sauntering  down  the  street,  when  they  met  a 
dainty  figure  well  set  off  in  an  artistically  fitted  dress, 
and  stepping  fastidiously  over  the  damp  spots  where 
the  morning  sun  had  melted  the  frost-nipped  earth. 

At  sight  of  Britton,  Winifred  recalled  the  scene  on 
the  bridge  and  the  peril  from  which  he  had  rescued  her. 
She  recognized  him  by  a  slight  but  gracious  inclina- 
tion of  the  head,  to  which  he  responded  by  raising  his 
hat.  His  loutish  companion,  fancying  that  Britton 
meant  it  as  an  insolent  mockery  of  the  manners  of  her 
class,  laughed  loudly. 

"What  are  you  roaring  at,  you  stupid?  "  asked  Brit- 
ton. 

"  To  see  you  duckin'  and  uncoverin'  like  the  priest 
before  his  gimcracks  in  the  church  over  there.  I  leave 
all  those  monkey-shines  to  the  big-bugs.  You  don't 
get  me  ketchin'  a  big  cold  in  my  head." 


314:  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"Why,  you  donkey,  don't  you  see  when  I  take  off 
my  hat  to  one  of  their  pretty  women  it  shows  I  know 
as  much  as  they  do  about  their  tricks  and  their  man- 
ners." 

"I  don't  see  it  in  that  way;  but  if  that's  the  game 
you  're  after,"  said  Harmon,  leering  and  grinning, 
"you're  aimin'  high." 

"What  I'm  doing's  my  business,"  replied  the 
other.  "  I  've  as  much  right  to  bow  to  her,  or  speak 
to  her,  as  a  fellow  who  cheats  his  fellow-creatures  by 
lending  money  to  'em,  or  picks  their  pockets  while 
they're  a-quarreling  in  law-suits." 

"Damn  it,  man!  don't  put  on  airs  with  me!  You 
would  n't  dare  speak  to  the  gal!  That  glib  tongue  o' 
yourn  'd  make  about  ez  much  racket  ez  that  ere  calf's 
a-makin'  by  a-wigglin'  of  his  tail,  and  your  head  'd 
feel  like  Kaiser's  beer  now-a-days,  with  five  cents' 
worth  o'  froth  and  two  cents'  worth  o'  body." 

"  I  '11  bet  you  the  beer,  I  '11  speak  to  her  next  time  I 
see  her." 

The  only  answer  was  another  roar  and  the  accept- 
ance of  the  bet.  In  order  to  carry  out  his  bravado, 
Britton  lingered  in  the  vicinity  of  Brewster's  house 
until  her  return  from  church,  when,  to  the  unspeaka- 
able  amazement  of  his  companion,  he  audaciously 
crossed  the  street  and  joined  her.  To  do  him  justice, 
his  tall,  muscular  figure,  well  set  off  in  coarse  but 
fashionable  clothing,  a  clean-shaven  face  and  carefully  - 
arranged  moustache,  gave  him  a  varnished  gentility 
that  afforded  him  many  striking  advantages. 

She  was  surprised  at  his  accosting  her;   but  her 


SOCIAL  EQUALITY.  315 

semi-public  life,  bringing  her  into  contact  with  "  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  men"  and  women,  her  good 
sense,  and  her  quick  sympathies  put  her  at  ease  with  ev- 
erybody. Her  dignity  was  unconscious,  unsuspicious 
and  not  quickly  offended.  She  put  the  best  possible 
construction  on  people's  motives,  and  was  not  easily 
disturbed  by  any  disregard  of  social  usages  not  ill 
meant.  Aside,  too,  from  her  natural  kind-hearted- 
ness, she  felt  that  her  obligations  to  him,  not  wholly 
discharged  by  her  father's  bank  check,  forbade  her 
resenting  anything  short  of  downright  rudeness. 

Brittou  little  knew,  as  he  confessed  to  himself  af- 
terwards, "what  a  contract  he  had  taken  on  his 
hands;"  for,  from  the  moment  she  bade  him  "good 
day,"  in  a  low,  pleasant,  but  gently  superior  tone,  his 
tongue  and  head  treacherously  put  themselves  at 
Harmon's  service  in  fulfilling  that  prophet's  prophecy. 

She  relieved  the  embarrassment  by  saying: 

"  It  must  be  a  pleasant  change  for  you  to  get  out  into 
the  open  air  on  a  beautiful  day  like  this.  " 

"Yes,"  he  answered;  which  was  all  he  could  mus- 
ter by  way  of  reply. 

"  I  should  think  the  factory  people  would  enjoy 
Sunday,  and  stand  by  it  as  their  day. " 

He  had  talked  about  this,  and  was  more  familiar 
with  it. 

"They  do,"  he  said;  "they  believe  in  a  rest  day; 
not  to  go  to  church  in,  though;"  he.  added  after  a 
pause.  "We  ought  to  have  part  of  a  Sunday,  every 
day.  " 

"Everybody  ought  to  go  to  church,"  said  Wini- 


316  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

fred.  "  It  is  bad  for  people  to  get  the  notion  they  can 
do  without  it;  even  if  they  do  not  believe  much  in 
what  they  hear  and  see  there,  they  will  probably  think 
of  something  better  than  their  hard  work  and  their 
money-getting." 

"  It 's  little  that  money -getting  troubles  -ws,"  said 
Britton,  with  something  of  his  surly  and  revolutionary 
tone,  that  frightened  her  a  little;  "it's  the  not  get- 
ting it." 

"  Everything  seems  going  wrong,"  she  said  plaint- 
ively, to  herself  quite  as  much  as  to  him;  "I  wish  I 
knew  what  the  trouble  is." 

"  We  know,"  said  Britton,  in  the  tone  that  alarmed 
lier. 

He  was  conscious  this  was  not  the  usual  style  of  con- 
versation between  young  gentlemen  and  ladies,  but, 
feeling  more  at  home  in  it,  he  clung,  in  desperation, 
to  it.  She,  for  her  part,  was  try  ing  to  devise  a  method 
of  dismissing  him  without  wounding  his  vanity. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  out  for  a  stroll  over  the  hills," 
she  said. 

"  No;  I  don't  care  for  the  hills.  I  like  to  be  with 
people." 

"  But  when  you  have  seen  them  all  the  week,  it 
is  a  relief  to  get  by  one's  self,  is  it  not?" 

He  felt  more  at  ease  as  he  walked  and  talked,  and 
some  of  his  native  boldness  returned  as  he  replied: 

"  If  I  could  see  people  like  you,  during  the  week,  it 
wouldn't  be." 

Her  heart  fluttered  with  tremor  at  his  rude  speech, 
but  without  noticing  it,  she  replied  quietly: 


SOCIAL  EQUALITY.  317 

"  I  think  it  would  be  better  for  people  wlio  are  shut 
up  in  the  close  factories  to  get  all  the  open  air  possi- 
ble. It  is  healthful." 

"  I  'm  healthy  enough,"  he  answered,  with  an  awk- 
ward laugh,  lifting  his  shoulders  after  his  fashion  of 
feeling-  of  his  strength,  as  if  he  were  an  engineer  test- 
ing the  pressure  of  the  steam  in  the  boiler. 

"I  mean  the  working  people  generally.  I  must 
stop  here,"  she  said,  opening  the  gate  of  a  neighbor's, 
bowing,  and  saying  "good-day  "  to  him,  before  he  fair- 
ly realized  that  she  had  taken  leave  of  him. 

He  walked  on  with  a  feeling  of  disappointment. 
He  cursed  something  a  good  deal,  but  whether  it  was 
her,  himself  or  the  constitution  of  tilings,  he  could 
not  tell  exactly.  He  did  not  know  it  at  the  time,  but 
now  he  saw  that,  throughout  the  entire  walk,  she  had 
spoken  of  him  and  his  class  as  something  different 
from  herself  and  hers.  And  he  had  admitted  it  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  all  his  theories  about  social 
equality  had  been  dissipated  to  the  winds  in  that  few 
minutes'  walk.  It  showed  itself  in  the  tone,  the  mode 
of  speech,  the  ease,  the  dignity,  in  contrast  with  his 
embarrassment  and  feeling  of  inferiority.  He  cursed 
the  laws,  whether  native  or  artificial,  that  made  it  so ; 
for  he  did  not  for  a  moment  think  there  was  anything 
personal  in  it.  He  was  as  good  as  she  and  all  her  be- 
longings. But  she,  he  argued,  had  been  taught  to 
look  down  on  such  as  he,  and  it  goaded  him.  ISTor 
was  he  much  relieved,  when,  on  turning  about  and 
retracing  his  steps  a  few  minutes  after,  he  saw  Dean 
Stratton — now  as  well  established  in  the  practice  of 


318  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

medicine,  as  could  be  expected  of  a  young  man  who 
was  to  inherit  a  fortune — walking  home  with  her. 
They  were  chatting  and  laughing,  and  went  gliding 
along  at  their  ease,  in  utter  contrast  with  the  embar- 
rassed and  almost  gloomy  march  he  had  taken  with 
her. 

"  There 's  a  fellow,  now,"  he  growled,  "  who  does  n't 
do  an  honest  hour's  work,  and  never  will.  He  '11  spend 
his  days  stuffing  poison  into  people's  carcasses,  as  old 
Stevens  stuffs  dead  owls  and  squirrels,  with  his  arsenic, 
and  things.  And  yet  because  the  snob 's  been  learned 
to  kill  people  when  they  're  not  like  to  die  naturally, 
he  's  coddled  and  petted;  but  because  I  do  something 
useful  I  'in  kicked  out." 

Had  you  told  Britton  that  medical  men  had  done 
their  share  in  adding  to  the  usefulness  of  the  human 
race,  by  increasing  the  length  of  human  life,  and  re- 
ducing the  number  of  days  lost  in  sickness,  he,  shar- 
ing an  idea  held  even  by  persons  more  intelligent  than 
himself,  would  have  said,  "  You  're  crazy;"  for  this  idea 
assumes  that  only  that  work  is  really  "  useful "  which 
produces  coarse  material  products  perceptible  to  touch 
and  taste;  while  the  higher  cultivation  of  the  facul- 
ties— through  eye  and  ear,  through  art,  literature,  mu- 
sic— is  unworthy  of  a  "  practical  man's  "  attention. 


MR.  BUNKER Y'S  VICTORY.  319 


CHAPTEK    XXXY. 

MR.  BUNKERY'S  VICTORY. 

"  You  look  anxious  and  worried,  dear,"  said  Wini- 
fred to  her  lover,  as  they  walked  up  the  path  to  the 
house. 

"  Do  I  ?     Perhaps  I  am  a  little  tired." 

"  Is  that  all?    Are  you  sure?" 

"  O  yes,"  he  said,  lightly,  but  she  did  not  feel  as- 
sured. 

"Tell  me  what  it  is,  dear!  I  have  a  right,  now,  to 
know  all  that  concerns  you." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  am  anxious.  I  hear  a  great 
many  rumors  of  coming  disturbances.  It 's  in  the  air; 
but  perhaps  that  is  all  it  will  ever  amount  to." 

"  What  is  it?    Where  does  it  come  from?  " 

"From  the  operatives;  chiefly  from  the  idle  dema- 
gogues. There  is  a  great  deal  of  threatening  talk; 
and  a  great  deal  of  suffering;  the  misery  is  the  pow- 
der, the  talk  is  the  match.  Don't  look  frightened,  my 
darling;  it  will  not  come  immediately;  perhaps  not 
at  all.  If  you  were  not  going  away  so  soon  I  would 
not  have  said  a  word." 

"  But  you  will  be  here." 

"  O,  I  shall  not  be  molested.     I  am  like  the  cat — 


320  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

a  harmless  and  necessary  animal.  In  fact,  I  am  rather 
popular  amongst  them.  That  is  the  way  I  come  to 
hear  these  things.  What  little  practice  I  have  had  is 
what  I  have  given  them  free." 

"  "What  can  be  done?  What  can  /  do? "  she  asked. 
"I  wish  I  knew.  I  am  so  sorry  for  them,  Dean. 
They  talk  as  if  they  were  weary  and  heavy-laden,  and 
I  don't  see  why  it  is  n't  our  duty,  if  we  are  Christians, 
to  make  their  yoke  as  easy,  and  their  burden  as  light 
as.  possible.  Maybe  I  am  self-righteous,  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  all  that  keeps  me  from  doing  anything 
for  them  is  not  knowing  what  to  do.  They  don't 
want  to  be  looked  down  upon  nor  talked  to  with  an 
air  of  superiority,  and  I  am  afraid  we  all  go  at  it  in 
that  way.  Just  before  I  saw  you,  I  was  talking 
with  " 

"Excuse  me  for  interrupting,"  said  Dean,  "but  I 
may  forget  it  unless  I  speak  of  it  now;  there  is  some- 
thing you  can  do;  indeed  I  am  sure  of  it.  I  have  just 
been  to  see  a  woman  whose  patience  and  heroism  are 
a  marvel  to  me.  And  yet  I  can't  help  her.  She  is 
perishing  from  disease,  it  is  true,  but  starvation  has 
already  done  its  perfect  work.  I  was  thinking  per- 
haps you  could  make  her  few  remaining  hours  more 
comfortable." 

'  O,  Dean,  how  dreadful !  Tell  me  what  I  can  do, 
and  I  will  do  it  with  all  my  heart  and  soul.  I  cannot 
believe  it  is  too  late.  I  cannot  feel  reconciled  to  that." 

"  Now  I  think  of  it,"  he  went  on,  "I  believe  you  or 
your  family  used  to  know  her." 

"Know  her!    who  is  it,  dear?     Tell  me  who  it  is  !" 


MR.  BUNKERY'S  VICTORY.  321 

"Mrs.  Cleland." 

"Mrs.  Cleland  !  Adelaide  Cleland!  Here  in  Kox- 
bury  !  Starving  here  !  How  came  she  here?  Why 
didn  't  I  know  ?  Why  didn  't  she  tell  me  ?  Why  didn  't 
somebody  let  me  know?"  cried  Winifred  in  great  dis- 
tress. "I  can't  forgive  myself,"  she  added  as  the 
tears  came  into  her  eyes,  and  Dean  tried  vainly  to 
check  her  self-reproaches.  "I  will  do  all  I  can — all  that 
remains  to  be  done,"  she  added  softly,  as  if  in  the 
presence  of  death. 

Bidding  Dean  good-bye,  and  ordering  the  cook  to 
prepare  beef  tea,  while  with  her  own  hands  she  packed 
a  basket  of  fruit,  jellies,  and  wines,  she  had  Eudolph 
drive  her  to  old  Cleland's  house. 

As  she  went  up  the  little  path  to  the  white  cottage 
she  saw  a  strange  face  in  the  window,  and,  in  response 
to  her  knock,  a  woman  opened  the  newly-painted 
brown  door. 

"The  nurse,  probably,"  said  Winifred  to  herself,  for- 
getting that  people  dying  of  starvation  do  not  employ 
nurses  to  soothe  their  last  hours. 

"How  is  Mrs.  Cleland? " 

"Well  enough,  for  all  I  know,"  said  the  woman. 

Winifred  stared  at  her.    There  must  be  some  mistake. 

"Can  I  see  her?"  asked  Winifred. 

"For  all  I  know,"  replied  the  woman  dryly. 

"Then  I  '11  step  in  and  you  will  tell  her  please,  that 
Winifred  Brewster  would  like  to  see  her." 

The  woman  still  stood  staring  at  her. 

"  There's  no  such  person  lives  here,"  said  she  after  a 
pause. 

21 


322  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

"Not  live  here!  Where  does  she  live  ?  Has  she 
gone  away  ? " 

"For  all  I  know.  Fact  is,"  she  consented  to  explain, 
"I  didn  't  come  to  this  town  till  yesterday,  an'  I 
don't  know  nobody.  My  son — he  lives  over  to  Mal- 
vern — and  he  bought  the  place  of  a  man  who  had  a 
mortgage  on  it;  an'  he  paid  too  much  for  it,  to  my 
thinkin',  but  he  wanted  me  to  come  over  and  settle 
the  house  for  him." 

"  She 's  a  sweet  creetur,  anyway,"  said  the  woman, 
as  Winifred  walked  away,  charmed  by  her  manner 
and  her  low,  kind  voice. 

"  Perhaps  Rudolph  will  know,"  thought  Winifred ; 
but  Rudolph  did  not  know.  She  saw  Jaycox,  sitting 
on  his  doorstep  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  smoking  his  pipe. 
As  she  tripped  across  the  road  he  advanced  to  meet  her. 
"  Yes,"  -he  said,  "  I  know.  I  've  seen  them  sink  slowly 
out  of  sight,  and  I  've  held  out  my  hand  to  'em,  as 
you  might  say,  but  it  was  little  I  could  do  for  'em- 
I  'm  nearly  exhausted  myself.  They  've  gone  down  in 
spite  of  anything.  It  makes  my  heart  ache,"  he  said, 
moving  a  little,  as  if  that  would  relieve  the  pain. 
"  They  had  to  leave  the  cottage.  The  old  man  intend- 
ed selling  it,  or,  at  least,  clearing  off  the  mortgage  as 
soon  as  prices  went  up.  He  had  several  good  offers, 
cash  in  hand,  by  people  who  wanted  to  put  their 
property  into  solid  land  before  the  deluge  came. 
He'd  a-jumped  at  any  one  of  them  the  year  before, 
but,  like  a  dozen  other  people  I  know,  he  said  to  him- 
self, '  It 's  going  higher,  and  I  '11  hold  on.'  And  so  he 
did;  and  kept  holding  on,  until  it  was  too  late." 


MR.  BUNKERY'S  VICTORY. 


Winifred  did  not  follow  Jaycox  very  closely.  She 
understood  only  that  the  old  man,  who  expected  to 
clear  off  his  debt  by  paying  for  his  place  in  depreci- 
ated paper,  was  tempted  by  the  "  high  prices,"  as  he 
called  them  —  that  is,  by  the  quantity  of  poor  money 
he  could  get  for  it  —  to  wait  until  the  chance  was 
gone.  He  had  repeated  the  mistake  which  he  had 
made  years  before,  when  he  first  bought  it  at  war 
prices,  thinking  its  value  would  advance  indefinitely. 
But  it  was  never  quite  high  enough  to  induce  him  to 
sell,  and  this  was  the  end. 

"Where  do  they  live?"  asked  Winifred. 

Jay  cox  pointed  to  a  hovel  twenty  rods  away,  on  a 
side  street. 

"Rudolph,  drive  down  Maple  street  to  the  old 
shanty  on  the  left  !  As  quickly  as  you  can  !"  she 
added,  thinking  ruefully  of  what  she  had  not  done  for 
Adelaide. 

She  sprang  out,  and  knocked  nervously.  The  door 
seemed  very  little  higher  than  her  head;  there  was  no 
knob,  or  fastening,  or  the  appearance  of  any  threshold. 
The  holes  in  the  floor  had  been  covered  with  a  few 
pieces  of  board,  which  were  gradually  being  taken  up 
to  feed  the  feeble  fire.  Great  gaps  in  the  ceiling  and 
walls,  where  the  plaster  had  fallen  off,  added  to  the 
squalor  and  wretchedness  of  the  hovel.  A  quilt  across 
one  corner  of  the  room  offered  the  only  seclusion 
which  Mrs.  Cleland  could  command,  since  she  needed 
the  little  warmth  there  was  to  be  got  from  the  one 
stove  and  the  scant  fuel.  Abandoned  rat  holes  were 
visible  in  the  wainscot.  There  was  not  food  enough 


324:  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

to  attract  the  former  occupants  back  to  their  haunts. 

These  details,  or  the  instant  in  which  they  were 
noticed,  seemed  to  her  like  a  photograph  of  the  in- 
terior. A  feeble  voice  bade  her  enter.  The  feebleness 
was  of  the  sort  from  which  one  never  recovers.  It 
was  mere  articulation  in  the  pipes  of  the  voice,  no 
volume  of  air  from  the  bellows  in  the  chest. 

Winifred  stepped  in  quietly  and  went  close  to  the 
fading  picture  of  the  soldier's  widow.  She  sat  in  an 
old  wooden  rocking-chair,  over  which  a  tattered  "  com- 
fortable "  was  thrown.  The  eyes  looked  out  unnatur- 
ally large  and  dark,  from  a  bluish,  transparent  face. 
Winifred  had  never  seen  any  one  so  near  the  great 
change.  She  trembled  even  while  she  tried  to  be 
calm.  She  took  the  poor  bones  of  the  once  hard-work- 
ing right  hand  in  hers,  the  tears  streaming  from  her 
eyes.  Besides  the  rocking-chair  there  was  only  one 
poor  stool  in  the  room.  A  rude  wooden  box  stood 
near  the  widow's  feet,  and  Winifred,  sitting  down, 
tried  resolutely  not  to  show  how  moved  she  was,  but 
to  be  the  comforter  she  came  to  be.  One  of  the  thin 
hands  rested  on  her  beautiful  brown  hair  and  the  faint 
voice  said: 

"Don 't !  Winifred,  don  't !  You  will  make  your- 
self ill  and  nothing  can  make  me  better — here." 

She  spoke Vith  calmness,  and  a  great  dignity  en- 
wrapped her  like  a  garment.  The  soul  seemed  al- 
ready free  within  the  worn-out  shell.  Kesistance  had 
ended. 

"I  had  hoped  to  see  you,  Winifred.  I  had  even 
thought  of  sending  some  word  to  you.  But  I  knew  you 


MR.BUNKERY'S  VICTORY.  325 

were  away  for  rest  and  health,  and  I  would  not  trou- 
ble you.  I  hope  you  are  better." 

Winifred  waived  any  question  about  herself,  though 
she  could  not  trust  her  voice  to  ask,  had  there  been 
anything  left  to  ask,  of  the  sufferer  before  her.  At 
last  she  said : 

"What  you  must  have  suffered,  poor  Adelaide  ! 
How  did  it  come  about  ?  I  never  heard  or  knew  till 
half  an  hour  ago." 

A  distressing  cough  shook  the  frame,  sending  a 
shiver  through  it,  as  the  tempest  sometimes  shook  the 
hovel.  The  spasm  was  so  long  and  violent  that  Wini- 
fred began  to  fear  it  was  the  only  answer  that  would 
ever  come.  But,  apparently  making  no  account  of  the 
interruption,  the  dying  woman  went  on. 

"Yes,  I  have  suffered,  but  it  has  seldom  been  more 
than  I  have  strength  to  bear,  and  it  is  over  now.  I 
rebelled  at  first,  but  I  have  learned  to  submit  at  last." 

There  had  come  that  blessed  benumbing,  that  re- 
prieve of  pain  which  often  comes  on  the  approach  of 
death.  Through  hidden  channels  of  mercy  this  ten- 
der anodyne  had  been  administered  to  her. 

Death  was  kind,  and  its  blow,  like  the  stroke  of  the 
lion's  paw,  stupified  its  victim  into  unconsciousness 
of  suffering. 

Winifred  offered  her  some  of  the  delicacies  in  her 
basket,  and  she  went  on,  as  her  feebleness  let  her  speak. 

"Had  any  one  told  me  that  I  should  come  here,  to  die ; 
that  father  and  Arthur  would  have  to  sleep  there — " 

The  cough  came  again,  and  again  she  waited  pa- 
tiently for  strength  to  go  on. 


326  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

— "  And  that  I  should  have  to  leave  them  here,  I 
would  have  expected  a  fierce  resistance  and  an  agony 
of  struggle;  but  I  have  not  felt  sa;  that  is,  not  of  late. 
I  am  still  hoping  for  a  little  light  on  their  future. 
Perhaps  you  have  brought  it,  Winifred,  and  then  - 1 
•can  go. " 

"  I  have  brought  it.  I  will  bring  it.  I  will  do 
whatever  you  wish  to  help  them.  Trust  me,  though  I 
have  not  deserved  to  be  trusted.  I  ought  to  have  seen ; 
I  ought  to  have  known;  but  I  will  not  fail  again.  " 

The  last  spark  of  unrest  seemed  to  go  out,  and,  in 
spite  of  the  cough,  perfect  peace  fell  upon  her.  Above 
it's  painful  noise,  Winifred  heard  faint  taps  outside, 
and  Arthur  came  in  with  a  few  sticks  in  his  hands. 
His  eyes  were  still  bright;  his  face  fresh  with  com- 
parative health.  His  mother  had  starved  herself  to 
save  him,  but  with  such  ingenious  love,  that,  daily  ac- 
customed to  her  self-sacrifice,  he  was  quite  uncon- 
scious of  it.  He  went  out  again,  after  putting  the 
wood  which,  with  long  and  painful  toil,  his  feeble 
strokes  had  split,  into  the  small,  spiteful  stove,  that, 
unlike  the  church  at  Laodicea,  was  either  cold  or  hot, 
and  hastened  the  sick  woman's  disease  by  the  alternate 
extremes  of  temperature. 

"  No, "  continued  Adelaide,  "  if  I  had  foreseen  it,  I 
could  not  have  endured  it;  but  it  came  gradually.  I 
hoped,  hoped  every  day  for  work;  but  there  was  little 
I  could  do.  What  can  any  one,  sitting  at  a  desk  for 
months  or  years,  and  taught  a  business  that  fits  one  for 
nothing  else,  find  to  do  when  she  is  suddenly  deprived 
of  it  ?  1  tried  sewing,  but  the  pay  was  so  small. 


MR.  BUNKERY'S  VICTORY.  327 

Father  sold  the  cow.  Then  the  furniture  went,  piece 
by  piece — all  but  Arthur's  easel  and  his  tools.  Mr. 
Trafton  gave  us  credit  until  pension  day.  When  I 
went  with  the  money,  he  said  :  '  I  can't  let  you 
have  credit  any  more.  I  lose  on  it  every  time.' 
The  tears  came  into  my  eyes.  He  saw  them  and  said: 
1  I  know  how  it  is,  but  if  I  did  it  for  all,  I  am  sorry 
for,  it  would  ruin  me. '  I  knew  this  was  true,  and  I 
went  away.  But  how  dark  it  was,  Winifred  !  I 
thought  of  my  helpless  boy  looking  up  to  me  as  I  had 
looked  at  Mr.  Trafton.  I  prayed  that  God  would  take 
us  before  that  time;  but  He  did  not  hear  me,  and  I 
have  prayed  only  for  patience  since.  " 

Here  the  cough,  like  an  impatient  fiend,  tormented 
her,  and  would  not  come  out  of  her. 

"  My  poor  boy,  "  she  went  on  at  last,  "  his  loving 
eyes  begged  me  for  food,  and  he  was  shivering  with 
the  cold.  One  day  he  went  to  the  closet  where  his 
father's  uniform  hung.  I  kept  it  since  it  came  home 
with  the  ragged  hole  in  the  breast  where — where — the 
bullet  killed  him — after  it  was  all  over,  you  know, 
and  peace  had  come.  Arthur  looked  at  it.  It  was  thick 
and  warm.  It  seemed  as  if  only  looking  at  it  made 
him  feel  more  comfortable.  He  did  not  say  anything, 
but  glanced  once  or  twice  at  me.  I  could  not  refuse 
what  he  asked,  and  I  could  not  grant  it — not  at  first. 
But  one  day  I  took  it  down  and  cut  off  the  buttons. 
I  ripped  it,  and  recut  it,  and  made  it  over,  with  the 
tears  falling  upon  it.  At  last  it  was  done,  and  nay 
darling  has  not  suffered  in  that  way  since.  Father 
has  helped  all  he  could.  I  hoped  that  at  some  time 


328  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

my  boy's  talents  would  be  recognized.  I  could  die 
happy  if  I  thought  lie  would  have  a  chance.  " 

"  He  will!— he  shall! "  said  Winifred.  « I  will  give 
him  every  opportunity.  He  shall  have  masters  and 
schools,  and  a"  fair  chance." 

"Thank  you,  Winifred!  I  see  your  kind  mother 
looking  at  me  through  your  eyes.  I  will  tell  her  how 
good  a  daughter  she  left  behind  her." 

Winifred  bowed  her  head  reverently  upon  her 
hands,  shedding  tears  of  sympathy  and  self-reproach 
that  she  had  not  proved  worthier  of  her  mother  in 
saving  this  stricken  woman  from  a  premature  grave. 

"Don't  reproach  yourself  like  that,  dear  Winifred! 
There  are  hundreds  needing  help  as  much  as  we.  It 
is  folly  to  hope  that  one  person  rather  than  another 
will  be  helped." 

She  had  become  so  enfeebled  that  she  spoke  with 
great  difficulty.  Winifred  sprang  up  and  tenderly 
caressed  her,  holding  her  head  upon  her  shoulder  and 
smoothing  her  forehead.  Then  she  took  the  thin 
white  face  in  her  hands  and  softly  kissed  her  with 
great  awe,  as  in  the  presence  of  one  who  was  about  to 
be  welcomed  where  earthly  rank  and  power  and  cult- 
ure and  fashion  had  no'standing  or  recognition.  Ad- 
elaide closed  her  eyes  and  sank  back.  Winifred 
poured  a  glass  of  wine  and  held  it  to  the  dying 
woman's  lips.  She  drank  a  little,  and  gasped,  trying 
to  speak  again.  She  beckoned  toward  the  outer  door. 
Winifred  ran  and  called  the  boy.  His  mother,  bend- 
ing toward  him,  clasped  him  in  her  almost  lifeless 
arms.  She  fell  back  once  more,  and  Winifred  thought 


MR.  BUNKERY'S  VICTORY.  320 

she  had  fainted;  but  the  light  never  shone  in  her  eyes 
again. 

The  old  man  came  in  with  an  armful  of  broken 
boughs.  Gaunt  and  haggard,  he  stood  in  the  door- 
way a  moment,  gazing  at  the  scene.  He  knew  what 
it  meant.  He  had  been  expecting  it  at  any  moment 
%  for  weeks.  He,  too,  was  failing  in  strength.  He  had 
told  his  daughter  he  wanted  to  go  away  somewhere 
and  be  at  rest  forever.  He  took  the  dead  woman's 
hand  affectionately  in  his  and  kissed  her  forehead. 

"She  was  a  good  woman,"  said  he  with  simple, 
hearty  honesty. 

The  same  day  on  which  she  was  laid  by  the  side  of 
her  husband,  Mr.  Bunkery's  rival  was  sworn  in  as  a 
member  of  the  United  States  Senate.  Mr.  Bunkery's 
sacrifice  of  her  happiness  and  life  to  the  deity  of  the 
"machine"  had  been  unacceptable  and  vain.  In  a 
less  devout  worshiper  than  Mr.  Bunkery,  his  failure 
would  have  brought  a  harrowing  scepticism  as  to  the 
beneficence  and  omnipotence  of  his  god.  Even  he  may 
have  temporarily  doubted,  and  felt  tempted  to  insult 
it  or  chop  it  to  pieces.  But  his  faith  abounded,  and  he 
vowed,  on  the  next  occasion,  if  it  were  possible,  to  pile 
its  altar  still  higher  with  victims,  and  to  cry  aloud  and 
spare  not,  if  haply  it  might  hear  and  bless  him. 


330  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER     XXXYI. 

JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER. 

LATE  in  the  evening  of  the  day  of  the  funeral,  at 
which  his  daughter  was  so  sincere  a  mourner,  Presi- 
dent Brewster  was  reading  a  foreign  letter  to  an  Amer- 
ican newspaper,  which,  rather  for  his  instruction  than 
his  entertainment,  had  been  marked  and  laid  before 
him. 

It  was  an  account  of  the  exploits  of  his  son,  who, 
as  a  consular  agent,  was  found,  at  a  very  early  date,  to 
hold  strikingly  original  views  upon  the  method  of  con- 
ducting a  diplomatic  mission;  but,  when,  during  a 
periodical  drunken  frolic,  they  culminated  in  his  pub- 
licly unveiling  the  women  on  the  streets  of  an  oriental 
city,  the  scandal  became  no  longer  tolerable. 

Brewster's  embarrassment  at  conduct  which  he  had 
always  felt  a  comfortable  assurance  in  regarding  as 
peculiar  to  the  heirs-apparent  of  effete  despotisms, 
nettled  him  beyond  his  usual  patience  and  good  humor; 
but,  on  reading  the  following  telegram  from  Clegg,  at 
Eoxbury,  his  irritation  gave  place  to  a  far  profounder 
emotion  : 

"  Mill  set  on  fire  and  totally  destroyed.  Mob  attacked  your 
house,  but  driven  off.  Winifred  in  critical  condition.  Dean  Strat- 
ton  badly,  but  not  dangerously,  hurt  in  defending  her." 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER.  331 

As  if  not  quite  comprehending  it,  he  read  it  over 
again.  Then,  summoning  Danforth,  he  was  in  a 
short  time  whirling  homeward  by  special  train.  At 
daylight,  he  was  reading  in  the  morning  papers  full 
accounts  of  the  catastrophe. 

As  the  lightning's  flash  brings  blackness  even  in  the 
darkness,  one  blasting  sentence  blotted  out  the  whole 
broad  page  of  gloomy  chronicle. 

"  The  physician  fears  that  Miss  Brewster  will  not  recover  from 
the  shock." 

Tears,  slowly  gathering  in  the  eyes  of  the  imperious 
and  insolent  man,  overflowed  like  springs  from  the 
heart  of  mountain  rocks. 

Not  Jephthah,  recalling,  as  his  daughter  came  forth 
to  meet  him,  the  rash  vow  which  he  had  vowed,  could, 
in  his  victorious  pride,  have  known  bitterer  anguish. 

In  the  crowded  and  furious  events  which  formed 
the  glaring  picture  of  his  life,  he  saw  only  that  beloved 
and  delicate  figure  standing  out  from  the  riotous  back- 
ground, and,  like  a  never- wearied  sister-of- mercy,  hov- 
ering upon  the  edge  of  his  ceaseless  battle. 

He  saw  her  on  that  somber  afternoon  when,  from  a 
new-made  grave,  he  came  back  to  the  deserted  house; 
folded  to  his  heart  the  nestling  hostage  a  mother's 
love  had  left  him;  and  answered  only  with  caresses 
the  torturing  questions  of  her  childish  awe.  He  saw 
her  as  she  grew  in  daily  value  to  him,  and  "every 
lovely  organ  of  her  life  became  appareled  in  more 
precious  habit."  He  saw  her  as  he  took  leave  of  her, 
scarcely  a  year  before;  when  for  her  own  rest  and. 
comfort  he  sentenced  her  to  an  exile,  which,  to  her 


332  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

meant  buoyant  pleasure,  youthful  joy,  entertainment 
for  her  tastes,  enrichment  of  her  experience;  but 
which,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  struggle  to  keep  what 
he  had  won,  and  to  save  from  ruin  himself  and  his 
fortunes,  to  him  meant  loneliness  and  bereavement; 
hunger  to  his  one  absorbing  love;  frost  to  the  one  deli- 
cate flower  of  his  affection  which,  on  the  cold  and 
sterile  heights  of  his  self-seeking,  had  bloomed  so  long. 

Her  existence  and  her  love  had  been  the  sweet  and 
tender  theme  running  all  through  the  warlike  sym 
phony  of  his  career,  tempering  with  its  pure,  clear 
melody  the  harshness  and  clangor  of  the  drum  and 
trumpet  tumult  wherein  most  of  his  life  was  spent. 

Had  he  like  Jephthah  sacrificed  to  his  greed  of  vic- 
tory the  treasure  jrf  his  hearth  and  heart? 

Now,  distracted  by  anxiety  until  the  tardy  wheels 
of  the  flying  train  seemed  staying  instead  of  speed- 
ing his  impatience  to  reach  her;  now,  forgetting  in  his 
grievous  revery  the  minutes  and  the  miles  which 
rushed  almost  concurrently  by,  he  arrived  at  Roxbury. 

His  horses  carried  him  at  furious  rate  from  the  sta- 
tion to  the  house,  plunged  through  the  gateway  and 
up  the  winding  road. 

Barely  looking  at  the  blackened  and  steaming  ru- 
ins of  his  mill,  the  broken  fence,  the  trampled  lawn, 
the  veranda  bearing  .yet  the  marks  of  violence,  he 
opened  the  door  and  entered  his  forlorn  home.  The 
special  physician  he  had  summoned  by  telegraph  was 
already  awaiting  him  in  the  library,  and  with  him  her 
father  went  at  once  to  Winifred's  darkened  chamber. 

A  wise  man  has  said  that  the  things  which  are  most 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER.  333 

vital  to  a  mart's  happiness  are  the  events  of  his  do- 
mestic life;  and  a  still  greater  authority  has  declared 
that  a  man's  life  consisteth  not  in  the  abundance  of 
the  things  which  he  possesseth 

The  millionaire  President  of  the  great  republic, 
knowing  that  wealth  and  honor  were  worthless  there, 
humbly  and  reverently  entered  the  room  where,  with 
wide-stretched  eyes  that  saw  nothing,  lay  his  sweet, 
unconscious  daughter. 

It  mattered  little  now,  that  even  in  the  subdued 
light  of  this  dainty  maiden's  bower,  there  came  a  ra- 
diance of  rich,  harmonious  color,  and  gleams  from 
glass  and  metal  adornments  on  bracket,  wall  and  dress- 
ing table;  that  even  the  bed,  scarcely  billowed  by  the 
slender  form,  was  of  precious  amaranth  wood,  a  won- 
der of  delicacy  and  beauty.  The  room  might  have 
been  dingy,  barren,  squalid,  for  all  that  her  surround- 
ings could  do  to  relieve  the  blight  which  the  wild 
terror  of  the  night  before  had  laid  upon  her. 

The  nurse,  shaking  herself  out  of  her  nap,  arose 
and  came  forward.  The  father,  bending  gently  over 
his  daughter,  called  her  name.  His  affection  seemed 
to  untwist  his  rough  features  into  a  hint  of  resem- 
blance to  his  own  youth,  and  to  his  daughter's  face. 

"Winny." 

The  only  response  was  a  cold  stare. 

"  Winifred,"  he  plead,  in  tones  fit  to  break  a  heart 
of  stone. 

She  answered  with  a  low  moan,  and  a  slow  roll  of 
the  head  from  side  to  side. 

The  tears  flowed  down  his  face,  and  with  a  burst 


334  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

of  mingled  love  and  anguish,  lie  exclaimed,  as  if  he 
had  even  now  quite  lost  her  in  the  rayless,  pathless 
wilderness  of  death: 

u  Oh,  she  was  very  precious !" 

"With  one  sudden  bound,  she  was  on  the  floor,  and 
apparently  lifting  a  burden. 

"Dean!  Dean!"  she  cried;  "speak  to  me!  speak  to 
me,  my  darling.  They  say  it  was  my  father's  fault, 
but  don  't  believe  them,  dear;  do  not  believe  them! 
Come,  Dean,  come!  Dearest,  don 't  lie  there!  You  '11 
break  my  heart.  You  '11  break  my  heart  if  }TOU  do  not 
speak  to  me.  O,  they  have  killed  him,"  she  cried; 
"  he  has  killed  him,  and  I  loved  him  so." 

She  fell  helpless  along  the  floor,  whence  she  was 
lifted  to  the  bed  again,  and  once  more  lay  still,  with 
fixed  yet  pleading  eyes. 

A  great  agony  convulsed  her  father  as  he  stood  in  the 
corner  of  the  room,  and  a  tearless  sob  escaped  him. 

The  physician's  report  afforded  little  encouragement. 
He  ordered  them  to  shear  her  pretty  brown  hair,  and 
frankly  told  the  poor  father  that  he  might  as  well 
go  back  to  Washington  and  his  work,  for  he  could  do 
nothing,  nothing — for  his  daughter.  It  was  a  ques- 
tion of  time,  of  tender  nursing,  and,  after  that,  even 
of  her  reason.  Her  father  watched  for  hours,  but 
there  was  no  change .  Occasionally  she  moaned ;  occa- 
sionally started  in  terror.  "  They're  coming,"  she  cried, 
and  rehearsed  the  tragedy  of  the  previous  night. 

An  urgent  telegram  summoned  President  Brewster 
to  the  capital.  His  bitterest  enemy  would  have  pitied 
him,  so  wide-shouldered,  so  vigorous  in  mind  and 


JEPHTIIAirS  DAUGHTER.  335 

body  —  parting  with  his  daughter;  —  an  Atlas,  who, 
though  he  fancied  he  could  lift  the  world,  could  not 
lift  the  weight  that  was  too  heavy  for  the  beloved  life 
before  him.  He  gently  kissed  her,  and  more  than 
once  tried  to  take  his  leave  of  her,  so  helpless  there. 
Then,  drawing  his  hand  across  his  brow  and  eyes,  with 
a  motion  which  seemed  to  say,  "  lu>  weakness,"  he 
went,  with  head  erect,  out  of  the  room. 

A  special  train  again  shot  through  one  sleeping 
town  after  another,  that  night.  Poor,  tired  Barney 
Scully,  busy  coupling  cars,  said,  bitterly,  as  it  sped 
along  : 

"It's  the  crame  that  belongs  to  such  as  them;  the 
skim  milk  's  too  good  for  us." 


336  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

PLAYING  WITH  FIRE. 

THE  sun  was  going  down  upon  that  mild  December 
day  as  Arthur  lingered,  after  the  burial  of  his  mother, 
to  take  leave  of  his  only  inheritance  —  the  lot  in  which 
lay  the  remains  of  his  parents  —  in  the  cemetery  at 
Roxbury.  The  lot  was  situated  next  the  fence,  and 
enclosed  by  a  thick  hedge  of  arbor-vitce.  The  other 
side  of  ^the  fence  ran  a  gravel  road,  that  led  into  the 
conn  fry  beyond. 

He  was  on  the  point  of  departure,  when  he  heard 
footsteps  crunching  the  gravel  outside;  and,  looking 
through  the  crannies  of  the  hedge,  he  saw  three  or 
four  men,  loitering  in  step  but  eager  in  talk. 

"  I  'in  gettin'  tired  of  waitin',"  said  a  deep  but  im- 
patient voice.  "  It 's  all  very  well  for  him  to  say,  wait. 
He  hain  't  no  wife — not  yet,  anyhow,"  he  added,  with 
a  dismal  grin,  "  nor  young  'uns — leastwise  he  doesn't 
own  'em.  If  he  'd  a  dozen  mouths  eatin'  a  hole  in  a 
bag  o'  flour,  lie  wouldn't  wrait.  I  don 't  care  a  split 
bobbin  for  the  things  he's  waitin' for,  anyhow.  All 
I  cares  for  is  plenty  o'  grub  and  plenty  o'  time  to  eat 
it  in,  all  the  beer  I  kin  get  away  with,  and  a  go  at  fishin' 
now  and  then." 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE.  337 

"  He  's  too  much  a  swell  hisself  for  me,"  said  an- 
other. "  I  hate  'em  too  much  to  have  any  sort  o' 
deaiin' with  'em,  'cept  to  hold  their  noses  to  the  grind- 
stone. They  've  held  mine  to  it,-ever  sence  I  had  one." 

"  I  saw  sutthin'  a  Sunday  I  never  thought  to  a 
saw, "  said  the  other. 

"  Harmon  's  allers  seein'  things  "  said  tlie  piping 
voice  of  the  faded  little  man.  "  He  seed  daylight  'fore 
he  uz  born,  'f  you  '11  b  'leeve  him." 

"  'An  you  ain't  seen  it  yit,  whether  they  b  1'eeve  you 
or  not,"  retorted  Harmon. 

"  Come,  take  in  your  slack,"  said  a  third,  "  and  let's 
have  what  you  saw  a  Sunday." 

"  Well,  I  saw  him  sidle  right  up  to  Brewster's  gal 
while  she  uz  a  walkin'  along,  and  shoot  that  hat  'a 

his'n,  an'  by fall  into  line,  an'  go  waltzin'  down 

street   with   her,   'z'if  he'd   been    cut   oft'  the   same 
piece." 

"  He 's  no  good  "  said  the  other,  "let 's  get  to  busi- 
ness !  They  're  all  ready  for  it.  Just  fire  'em  up  an' 
the  rest  on  'em  '11  come  in." 

"What  time  '11  we  begin?  " 

"  "NYhat  time  '11  Donavan  be  ready? " 
"He  '11  get  a  dozen  together  at  eight  o'clock,  an'  it  '11 
be  a  goiu'  by  half-pas'." 

"  How  's  the  watchman?" 

"  All  right.  He  was  growlin'  bad  t'other  night. 
He  says  things  is  got  so  you  can  light  a  candle  with 
a  dollar  bill  easier  'n  you  can  buy  one." 

The  group   moved  on  and  separated,  and  Arthur 
heard  no  more.   Then  leaving  the  only  abiding-place 
22 


338  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

his  father  and  mother  could  afford  him,  he  went  to 
the  new  home  which  Winifred  had  provided  for  him. 
After  supper  he  called  by  appointment  upon  her, 
and  she  outlined  the  plans  which  she  had  hurriedly 
formed  for  him.     He  thanked  her  very  gratefully,  and 
the  hope  and  enthusiasm  her  proposed  kindness  ex- 
cited, in  a  measure  soothed  his  grief.     As  he  was 
taking  leave  of  her  something  prompted  him  to  say: 
"  Do  you  know  anybody  named  Donovan? " 
"  I  do  not,  1  am  sure.    Is  he  somebody  in  Roxbury  ? " 
"  O  yes,  he  was  talked  about  this  afternoon  in  a 
very  strange  and  alarming  way,"  he  said,  and  then 
having  told  her  what  he  had  overheard,  went  away. 

These  echoes  of  Dean's  words  set  her  trembling. 
She  hoped  she  would  see  Dean  that  evening  after  he 
had  returned  from  visiting  a  country  patient. 

Resolving  to  inform  him  or  his  father  at  the 
earliest  possible  moment,  she  sat  down  by  the  table  and 
took  up  an  open  book  that  by  chance  was  lying  there. 
It  was  not  to  her  mind  and  she  was  about  laying  it 
down  again,  when,  by  a  coincidence  which  some  call 
accident,  some,  omen,  her  eye  fell  upon  a  passage 
describing  the  treatment  visited  by  the  Paris  mob 
upon  the  condemned  prisoners  of  the  French  revo- 
lution. In  spite  of  its  repulsiveness,  a  certain  fasci- 
nation forced  her  to  read  it  to  the  end: 

"  The  doomed  man  is  conducted  into  a  howling  sea  at  the  outer 
gate,  forth  under  an  arch  of  wild  sabers,  axes,  and  pikes,  and 
sinks  hewn  asunder.  And  another  sinks,  and  another,  and  there 
forms  a  piled  heap  of  corpses,  and  the  kennels  begin  to  run  red. 
Fancy  the  yells  of  these  men  ;  their  faces  of  sweat  and  blood  ;  the 
crueller  shrieks  of  these  women — for  there  are  women  too  ;  and  a 
fellow  mortal  hurled,  naked,  into  all!  " 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE.  339 

Shuddering,  as  though  awaking  from  a  horrid 
dream,  she  cast  the  book  aside  and  took  up  another,  in 
order  to  shut  out  the  terrible  vision.  She  started  to 
her  feet  at  the  words  of  the  breathless  housekeeper. 

"Winifred,  Winifred,  the  mill 's  a-fire!  " 

Winifred  ran  to  the  window  of  the  library.  The 
flames  were  bursting  through  the  roof,  the  building 
ablaze  from  end  to  end.  The  lower  floors  had  been 
saturated  with  petroleum  before  Donavan  began  a 
mad  harangue  to  a  dozen  operatives,  made  reckless  by 
the  whiskey  with  which  he  had  been  plying  them  all 
the  afternoon. 

The  rumors  of  pending  trouble  had,  by  their  myste- 
rious telegraphy,  circulated  among  the  vicious  tramps, 
and  for  two  or  three  days,  hoping  for  plunder,  they 
had  been  gathering  in  the  neighborhood.  As  soon  as 
the  fire  broke  out,  they  began  their  depredations  in 
the  houses  left  vacant  by  the  households  that  rushed 
off  to  see  it.  Going  boldly  into  the  saloons  they 
helped  themselves  to  liquor  and  were  soon  half  mad 
with  it,  some  of  them  dancing  in  a  kind  of  frenzy 
about  the  burning  mill. 

"It  '11  learn  'em  to  let  up  on  the  poor  working-men." 
"Sorry  ole  Brewster  ain't  here  to  see."  "Wish  he 
was  in  it."  "Wish  it 'd  burn  all  winter — savebuyin' 
coal."  "It '11  be  like  the  small-pox — mightyketchin'.  " 

Though  few  would  have  dared  commit  the  act — 
none  perhaps,  had  they  not  been  partly  starved,  and 
then  made  combustible  with  liquor,  as  the  mill  floors 
had  been  with  kerosene, — the  majority  of  them  sympa- 
thized with  it. 


340  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

The  fire-engine  came,  but  was  useless.  Britton  was 
ostentatiously  playing  a  game  of  billiards.  "  The  d — d 
fools!  "  he  exclaimed,  and  took  only  a  spectator's  part 
in  the  proceedings. 

Winifred  gazed  at  the  flames  devouring  the  accu- 
mulations of  many  years  of  her  father's  labor.  She 
wondered  if  it  would  ruin  him. 

The  rising  wind  suddenly  swept  in  gusts  down  the 
valley,  blowing  the  fire  toward  the  row  of  tenements  and 
boarding-houses  occupied  by  the  operatives.  She 
could  see  them  bringing  out  the  furniture  from  one; 
then  another  was  in  flames;  and  a  third;  soon  the  row 
was  a  mass  of  fire.  In  less  than  an  hour  hundreds 
of  people  were  homel  ess. 

She  heard  hoarse  shouts.  A  small  group  broke  from 
the  mass  like  a  piece  of  ice  in  a  current,  and  floated  oft' 
toward  the  house,  the  remainder,  like  the  floe  in  the 
wake  of  a  drift,  turning  slowly  in  the  same  direction . 

They  came  pouring  through  the  gate  or  jumped 
over  and  broke  down  the  fence.  At  sight  of  their 
figures  in  relief  against  the  light  of  the  burn  ing  build- 
ings, her  face  grew  ashen.  At  one  moment,  her  heart 
stopped  beating;  the  next,  it  throbbed  as  if  its  pulsa- 
tions were  the  whole  of  her  existence.  But  there 
was  in  it  the  courage  of  her  father's.  He  could  meet 
mobs  and  subdue  them.  She  would. 

Now  she  could  see  their  forms.  The  broad  bands 
of  light  upon  the  lawn,  whitened  by  the  falling  snow, 
were  broken  with  fast-moving  shadows.  With  their 
excited  faces  lit  by  the  blaze,  and  their  bodies  im- 
mersed in  deep  shade,  they  seemed  riding  upon  a  cloud 
of  darkness. 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE.  341 

From  them  she  had  never  had  act  or  look  of  disre- 
spect. She  would  ask  them  what  they  wanted,  and, 
in  her  father's  name  promise  them  relief. 

They  came  on,  crushing  the  shrubs  and  tramping 
the  snow  into  mud. 

£Tow  she  could  see  their  gaunt  faces  rising  one  above 
another;  and,  desperate  with  loss  and  their  own  dar- 
ing, surging  up  to  the  veranda,  drunken  men  and 
boys,  and,  scattered  here  and  there,  a  woman. 

"  Come  out  o'  there,  or  we  '11  fetch  you  out,"  some 
cried  with  oaths;  and  others,  with  oaths  also,  echoed 
it  in  maudlin  voices. 

"What  right's  he  to  a  house,  an'  us  not  a  roof  to 
our  heads?"  screamed  a  woman. 

"  He  'greed  to  burn  it  his  own  self,"  said  a  former 
listener  to  one  of  the  major's  speeches. 

As  in  a  dream,  Winifred  opened  the  door,  the  light 
flooding  her  fair  face  and  brown  hair. 

"  Houly  Yairgin ! "  exclaimed  a  voice,  •almost  rever- 
ently, as  if  she  were  a  saint  in  a  shrine. 

The  cries  ceased  as  sbe  stood  there,  still  and  calm  in 
the  flickering  blaze.  Curiosity,  alarm,  excitement, 
rather  than  the  mob  spirit,  moved  the  mass  of  them, 
and  at  the  sight  of  her  they  stopped  irresolute.  But 
one  of  the  bolder  cried: 

"You  must  git  out  o'  that,  miss;  we've  come  on 
business." 

So  saying,  and  encouraged  by  a  laugh,  he  with  two 
others  mounted  the  steps. 

"Go  back!"  she  cried,  "you  have  no  business  here." 

"Sof'ly  now,  miss,"  said  the  speaker,  whose  prop- 


34:2  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

erty  consisted  of  sucli  portion  of  the  soil  as  adhered 
to  him  after  a  walk  in  the  dust  or  the  mud;  "we've 
los'  everythin'  by  the  fire,  an'  we  've  come  for  th'  in- 
surance. We  sha  'n't  hurt  nobody;  not  if  they  don't 
show  fight,"  he  added,  advancing  toward  her  with  a 
rascally  grin. 

If,  peradventure,  she  might  catch  sight  of  a  friendly 
face,  she  cast  a  beseeching  glance  at  the  crowd. 
Though  she  fancied  that  one  or  two  responded  with  a 
look  of  sympathy,  no  one  spoke  or  moved. 

Then  her  courage  gave  way.  She  felt  deserted, 
helpless,  lost.  She  turned  to  fly  to  the  shelter  of  the 
house,  but  a  rough  hand  drew  her  to  a  loathsome 
embrace.  Her  brain  reeled  with  horror.  She  uttered 
a  piercing  shriek.  Her  shell-like  ears  were  torn  and 
bleeding,  whence  the  ruffian  wrenched  the  diamond 
drops  whose  glistening  in  the  fire-light  attracted  his 
greed.  She  was  faint  and  sick  with  the  pain. 

Suddenly  the  three  intruders  were,  like  so  many 
vermin,  swept  down  the  steps  by  the  swing  of  a  pow- 
erful arm,  which,  as  her  limbs  gave  way,  she  felt 
supporting  her. 

Glancing  upward,  at  a  face  aglow  with  anger  and 
passion,  she  saw  William  Britton. 

At  this  moment  another  man,  pressing  through  the 
crowd,  rushed  up  and  struck  him  a  blow,  exclaiming: 

"Take  your  hands  from  her,  you  ruffian!" 

With  a  cry  of  joy,  she  recognized  the  new-comer; 
but,  before  she  could  speak,  Britton  withdrew  his  arm, 
and,  lifting  Dean  Stratton  aboye  his  head,  dashed  him 
violently  upon  the  flagstone  walk.  The  crowd  shud- 


PLAYING  WITH  FIEE.  343 

dered  at  the  sickening  thud  with  which  he  struck  the 
ground. 

Winifred  started  forward,  but  fell  apparently  life- 
less upon  the  floor,  and  Britton,  bending  over,  raised 
her  gently  up. 

In  the  meantime  the  ruffians,  climbing  up  at  the 
end  of  the  veranda,  had  got  between  him  and  the 
door,  and,  encumbered  with  his  burden,  he  knew  it 
was  useless  to  fight  them.  Taking  her  up  like  a  child, 
he  passed  through  the  crowd  on  the  lawn  and  safely 
reached  the  sidewalk. 

Even  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult,  his  heart  was  fall 
of  passionate  exultation  over  his  possession  of  the 
President's  daughter.  Her  silken  hair,  loosened  in 
the  struggle,  softly  swept  his  face.  His  arm  clasped 
her  to  his  breast.  Her  head  lay  in  unconscious  con- 
fidence upon  his  shoulder.  He  had  never  even  touched 
such  chaste  loveliness  before,  and  to  be  thus  encircling 
it,  to  have  it  dependent  upon  him  for  shelter  and  pro- 
tection, quite  intoxicated  him. 

He  stood  still.  Whither  should  he  carry  her?  To 
take  her  to  friends  or  neighbors  would  be  surrendering 
her  to  the  stronghold  of  society,  from  which  he  had 
captured  her.  Should  he  carry  her  to  his  lodgings? 
That  would  be  only  a  temporary  expedient.  The  night 
train  was  due.  He  might  fly  with  her  to  the  seclusion 
of  a  large  city  —  a  plan  possible  only  in  the  disorder 
of  the  town.  The  thought  of  forcing  her  into  mar- 
riage by  compromising  her  maiden  blamelessness  whis- 
pered its  baseness  in  his  ear. 

Whatever  he  did  needed  auickly  doing;  for  the  air 


344  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

was  keen,  and  she  was  destitute  of  head-dress  and 
over-garuients. 

As  he  stood  irresolute,  a  shadow  came  between  him 
and  the  glow  of  the.  fire,  and  a  voice  said,  sternly  but 
calmly  : 

"  Take  Miss  Winifred  to  my  house  !  My  wife  will 
care  for  her." 

Britton  cast  an  angry  glance  at  the  speaker.  This 
fellow  was  always  interfering  with  him.  Were  he 
free,  he  would  serve  him  as  he  had  that  Stratton. 

"  Mind  your  own  business  !"  he  replied,  with  an 
oath. 

"Do  you  hear?"  said  Jaycox,  unmoved  by  his 
wrath.  "  Has  there  not  been  enough  of  this?  Do 
you  want  to  add  another  crime  to  this  bad  night's 
work?" 

"  None  o'  your  d — d  preaching,"  said  Britton,  turn- 
ing on  his  heel. 

Jaycox  put  out  his  hand. 

"No  more  of  this.  I  can  get  help.  They've  lost 
confidence  in  you,  and  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  to 
set  them  upon  you.  Come  with  me  !" 

He  had  taken  oif  his  coat  and  thrown  it  upon  her. 

Conscious  of  his  failure,  Britton,  in  a  surly  mood, 
followed  Jaycox  to  his  house.  He  laid  her  upon 
the  lounge,  and,  while  the  other  summoned  his  wife, 
stooped  and  kissed  her,  as  she  lay  impassive  and  help- 
less. 

"  We  must  go  and  put  a  stop  to  this  horrid  busi- 
ness," said  Jaycox,  coming  in  and  glancing  at  the 
pale  and  apparently  lifeless  girl. 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE.  345 

"It  is  none  of  my  business,"  said  Britton,  in  a  sur- 
ly tone. 

"Your  talk  of  Saturday  is  known  all  over  town, 
and  will  be  used  in  evidence  against  you.  The  best 
thing  possible  for  you  now,  is  to  make  amends  by 
preventing  this  from  going  any  further." 

Britton,  either  seeing  the  force  of  this,  or  satisfied 
with  the  measure  of  ruin  that  had  been  already 
wrought,  after  a  moment  of  hesitation,  slowly  arose 
and  followed  his  companion  out. 

A  large  crowd,  more  curious  to  know  what  would 
happen  next,  than  desirous  of  being  responsible  for 
anything  more,  was  aimlessly  wandering  over  Brews- 
ter's  lawn. 

Jaycox  and  Britton  came  up  to  a  group  of  them 
and  the  former  said: 

"  We  must  stop  this  right  here,  at  any  cost,  or  all 
its  wickedness  will  be  laid  to  us  and  the  workino-. 

O 

men's  cause.  We  have  our  wrongs,  and  they  shall  be 
heard;  but  they  never  will  be  in  the  noise  which  these 
greater  wrongs,  done  to  others,  are  sure  to  make." 

A  dozen  or  more  at  once  volunteered.  They  needed 
only  a  leader  to  marshal  their  hostility  to  outrages 
committed  in  their  name.  They  were  unfriendly  to 
owners  of  property,  but  they  were  not  criminals,  nor 
utterly  reckless. 

Arming  themselves  with  the  palings  of  the  broken 
fence,  they  entered  the  house.  About  twenty  of  the 
ruffianly  mob  —  only  one  or  two  operatives  among 
them — had  been  stripping  it  of  all  portable  articles. 

The  leader,  tall,  ragged,  uncombed,  unclean;  the 


34:6  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

scar  of  a  hatchet-cut  on  one  side  of  his  face  balancing 
a  streak  of  dirt  on  the  other,  was  bedecking  himself 
like  a  savage.  About  his  huge  person  he  had  wound, 
like  a  scotch  plaid,  the  gold-embroidered  crimson 
piano  cover.  Into  his  thicket  of  hair  he  had  stuck 
the  peacock  feathers  of  a  dustbrush  which  he  had 
plucked  for  the  purpose.  His  long  legs,  like  those  of 
a  Highlander  in  his  kilt,  protruded  beneath  a  black 
velvet  overskirt  of  Winifred's.  The  lace  window  cur- 
tains floated  from  his  shoulders  like  a  bridal  veil. 
With  unerring  instinct  the  wine-cellar  had  been  dis- 
covered, and  this  grotesque  combination  of  Rob  Roy 
and  Sitting  Bull  had  filled  with  champagne  a  hand- 
some vase,  and,  with  it  under  his  arm,  was  capering 
about  the  room,  singing  "Little  Brown  Jug,"  and 
whacking  now  and  then,  the  heads  of  his  comrades 
with  the  hassocks  and  the  sofa-pillows. 

They  had  stuffed  vases,  clocks,  statuettes,  candelabras, 
and  other  knick-knacks  into  pillow  cases,  and  had 
filled  their  pockets  with  the  luxurious  toys  and  trifles 
to  be  found  in  such  a  home. 

Then  began  a  hunt  for  the  silver,  and  their  lead- 
er had  just  proposed  piling  up  the  bedding,  the 
pictures  and  the  furniture  in  the  center  of  the  floor, 
and  setting  them  on  fire.  This  called  out  an  energetic 
protest  from  two  or  three  women  who  had  come  in, 
and  who  were  opposed  to  the  destruction  of  anything 
likely  to  prove  exchangeable  at  the  pawn-shop,  or  or- 
namental in  the  squalor  of  their  homes. 

Jaycox  and  his  retinue  entered  just  as  this  chieftain, 
in  spite  of  feminine  protests,  had  begun  the  prepara- 
tion of  his  bonfire. 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE.  347 

At  sight  of  them  he  stopped  his  laughter,  his  grim- 
aces and  his  capers,  and  put  his  hand  upon  a  pistol 
in  his  side-pocket.  It  became  tangled  in  his  toggery, 
and,  before  he  could  free  it,  he  lay  prone  upon  the 
floor. 

Britton,  seizing  two  others,  held  them  until  one  of 
his  party  brought  him  a  stout  picture- wire,  with  which 
he  bound  them,  and  which,  cutting  them  at  every  mo- 
tion, forced  them  to  lie  quiet.  The  rest,  being  nat- 
ural cowards,  jumped  from  the  windows  or  ran  out  of 
the  doors,  stampeding  the  crowd  outside.  In  a  few 
minutes  the  disordered  house,  the  trampled  lawn,  and 
the  self-constituted  police  were  the  only  traces  of  the 
riot. 


34:8  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 


CHAPTEK  XXXVIII. 

THE  ENEMY  CONQUERS. 

ON  Brewster's  return  to  the  capital,  there  was  no  trace, 
in  face,  or  demeanor,  of  the  sorrow  which  had  eaten  in- 
to that  iron  temper.  He  was  the  great  actor,  coining 
from  some  struggle  of  real  grief  and  passion  in  private 
life,  to  feign  upon  the  stage  fictitious  tragedy,  and 
portray  the  passions  of  dramatic  phantoms.  He  had 
his  part  to  play  in  that  national  drama,  upon  which 
the  curtain  never  goes  down,  and  in  which,  whether 
he  be  prepared  for  it  or  not;  whether  he  can  speak  the 
speech  which  is  set  down  for  him  or  not;  whether  or 
not  loss  and  pain  torture  him  at  every  step  and  in 
every  gesture,  each  member  of  the  company  that  have 
their  exits  and  their  entrances  in  that  stupendous 
play,  must  promptly  appear  in  his  appointed  role  and 
pronounce  it  as  trippingly  as  may  be  upon  the  tongue. 

And  as  the  audience  in  the  theatre  knows  not  that 
he  who,  on  the  stage  is  racking  and  exhausting  every 
resource  to  amuse  or  interest,  may  be  enacting  an 
actual  tragedy  within,  to  which  this  outward  seeming 
is,  for  him,  but  dumb  show  and  a  dull  mockery  of  his 
woe;  so  the  multitude  who  daily  came  in  contact  with 
Brewster,  parading  still  that  all-sufficient  and  all-ab- 


THE  ENEMY  CONQUERS.  349 

sorbing  figure  on  the  scene,  caught  no  glimpse  of  the 
picture  which  was  ever  before  his  eyes — of  that  lonely 
bed-chamber  and  the  beloved  life  that  lay  withering 
there. 

The  days  went  on,  and  no  news  of  change,  either  for 
the  better  or  the  worse,  came  to  relieve  the  suspense, 
lie  made  flying  visits  to  his  home,  but  they  only  ex- 
aggerated his  anxiety.  Meanwhile  a  change,  like  the 
even  ing  twilight,  was  creeping  over  him,  which  in  dis- 
tinguishing his  demeanor  of  to-day  from  that  of  yester- 
day, no  one  noted;  but  suddenly,  even  as  one  should 
say  "  night  has  come,"  and  all  should  recognize  the  fact, 
somebody  said  "  he  is  getting  queer,"  and  many  others 
echoed  it. 

He  would  sit  for  minutes  dazed.  Sometimes  he 
greeted  his  acquaintances  with  much  heartiness  as  if 
he  had  not  seen  them  in  months;  but,  with  all  his 
cordiality,  feebly  and  half-consciously  shaking  their 
hands  He  occasionally  used  the  wrong  word,  as 
when  he  talked  of  the  executive  "  deportment.  "  He 
no  longer  walked  boldly  and  solidly,  but  put  one  foot 
cautiously  forward,  as  if  he  were  not  quite  sure  of  his 
ground.  Somebody  else  said  he  would  never  be  the 
same  man  again. 

On  the  receipt  of  certain  foreign  dispatches,  he 
proved  this  to  be  a  mistake.  He  was,  once  more,  the 
vigorous,  burly  politician,  and  in  favor  of  a  foreign  war. 
He  had  brought  to  the  cabinet  meeting  the  minutes 
of  a  message  he  proposed  sending  to  Congress.  His 
paper  bristled  with  his  usual  insolence  in  bold  Saxon 
speech.  He  urged,  privately,  the  adoption  of  a  war 


350  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

policy  to  rescue  the  country  from  its  discontent,  heat 
its  patriotism,  stimulate  its  business,  and  destroy  all 
sectional  prejudices.  He  proposed  the  immediate 
seizure  of  Canada,  the  invasion  of  Mexico,  and,  before 
the  affair  was  finished,  the  stealing  of  Cuba.  He 
browbeat  into  silence  one  or  two  of  his  Cabinet,  who 
timidly  questioned  the  wisdom  of  the  plan,  and,  as- 
suming that  they  had'unanimou sly  assented,  omitting, 
indeed,  to  ask  their  individual  opinions,  he  dismissed 
the  conference.  In  brief,  as  one  of  his  Cabinet  secre- 
taries remarked,  he  was  himself  again. 

The  next  morning,  contrary  to  the  punctual  habits 
whereby  he  accomplished  so  much,  he  did  not,  at  ex- 
actly half-past  seven,  appear  in  the  breakfast-room. 
Danforth  waited  a  few  minutes,  and  then  sent  a  serv- 
ant to  arouse  him.  The  servant  knocked  at  his  bed- 
room door,  and,  returning,  said  :  "  He  is  not  awake." 

"  His  troubles  are  telling  on  him ;  he  must  be  lying 
awake  nights,  to  sleep  so  late,"  thought  Danforth  to 
himself. 

Eight  o'clock  came,  and  he  was  still  asleep.  At 
half-past,  fearing  a  rebuke  for  not  awaking  him,  Dan- 
forth himself  went  to  the  room,  and,  on  getting  no 
response,  turned  the  handle  softly,  and  pushed  open  the 
door.  The  President  had  gone  out. 

"  He  may  be  taking  a  walk,"  said  Danforth  to  him- 
self, finishing  his  breakfast,  "though  he  generally  de- 
tests exercise  before  breakfast." 

The  President  not  appearing,  he  betook  himself  to 
the  office.  The  gas-light  was  still  burning.  In  order 
to  have  a  quiet  hour  to  himself,  Brewster  had  arisen 


THE  ENEMY  CONQUERS.  351 

before  daylight,  and  was  still  in  the  midst  of  his  writ- 
ing; for  he  had  just  finished  a  sentence,  and,  pen  in 
hand,  was  sitting  upright  in  his  chair,  mentally  fram- 
ing his  next  thought  in  appropriate  words.  His  sec- 
retary's intrusion,  and  his  "  Good  morning !  Mr. 
President,"  did  not  rouse  him  from  the  intense  reflec- 
tion he  was  giving  to  his  message,  urging  upon  Con- 
gress a  declaration  of  war. 

Lawrence,  on  approaching  him,  discovered  the  reason 
of  his  silence.  Overcome  by  loss  of  sleep,  and  the 
fatigue  of  his  early  work,  he  had  fallen  into  slumber 
as  calm  as  an  infant's.  His  face  betrayed  scarce  a  trace 
of  the  anxieties  and  passions  that  had  swept  across  it, 
even  as  gales  sweep  across  a  mountain  lake,  and  leave 
it  placid  beneath  the  smiling  skies. 

Hesitating  to  disturb  this  profound  and  apparently 
much-needed  sleep,  Danforth  looked  at  him  more 
closely.  Then  he  put  his  hand  gently  upon  the  broad, 
full  forehead.  It  was  marble.  He  held  a  hand-glass 
to  the  mouth.  No  breath  dimmed  the  surface.  He 
was  so  fascinated  by  the  finer  look  in-the  countenance, 
that  he  stood  gazing  at  him  with  a  kind  of  son-like 
pride  in  the  powerful  head  and  face  which  death  had 
chastened  and  softened  into  antique  sculpture.  Even 
while  he  despised  his  methods  and  himself  for  being 
the  tool  of  them,  Danforth  had  truly  loved  the  man 
for  his  long  and  fatherly  kindness  to  him;  and  stand- 
ing there,  thinking  of  their  unbroken  years  of  pleas- 
ant intercourse,  unmarred  by  serious  reproof  from 
one,  or  disobedience  and  neglect  on  the  part  of  the 
other,  he  forgot  all  that  he  detested.  He  raised  the 


352  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

cold  hand  to  his  lips  and  deferentially  kissed  it,  his 
eyes  filling  with  tears  as  he  realized  that  the  end  had 
come. 

Fascinated  by  his  conscious  possession  of  a  secret 
which,  once  published,  would  make  the  ears  of  all  the 
world  to  tingle,  he  felt  tempted  to  remain.  N^ow  he 
was  its  sole  custodian.  It  was  as  if  the  confidence 
which  the  old  man  had  always  placed  in  him  was 
maintained  until  this  very  latest  moment,  and  to  his 
exclusive  knowledge  of  his  chieftain's  daring  methods 
of  startling  mankind  during  his  life,  was  committed 
this  equally  important  tidings  of  his  sudden  death. 
When  he  should  step  to  the  door  yonder,  it  would  no 
longer  be  all  his  own ;  in  less  than  an  hour  he  would  be 
sharing  it  witk  the  whirling  globe.  It  would  be 
known  in  kings'  palaces,  and  buzzed  about  in  every 
market-place.  Sneering  slightly  at  the  childish  ex- 
ultation which  this  imaginary  importance  had  excited 
in  him,  and  then,  walking  softly  and  sadly  out  of  the 
room,  he  announced  the  President's  death,  and  gave 
the  orders  which  the  occasion  required. 

The  body  of  the  dead  President,  with  eight  or  ten 
car-loads  of  officials  and  acquaintances,  arrived  atRox- 
bury  on  the  midnight  train.  For  hours,  patient  thou- 
sands filled  the  streets  leading  to  the  railroad,  and  thou- 
sands more,  motionless,  and,  if  not  wholly  dumb  like 
him  they  waited  for,  only  murmuring  their  thoughts 
to  one  another,  were  swallowed  up  in  the  chasm  of 
the  dark,  and  packed  so  close  into  the  open  space  about 
the  station,  that  the  police  and  the  military  found  it 
difficult  to  open  a  path  for  the  coffin  and  its  escort. 


THE  ENEMY  CONQUERS.  353 

For  the  first  time,  the  still  principal  personage  there 
could  not  make  a  way  for  himself  amongst  the  popu- 
lace. 

A  solemn  dirge  smote  the  midnight  air,  and  with 
its  wail,  waked  from  their  sleep,  into  troubled  con- 
sciousness, those  who  were  not  in  the  streets— the  chil- 
dren, the  aged,  and  the  sick.  A  choir  of  German  sing- 
ers chanted  a  funeral  hymn  as  the  slow-paced  throng 
passed  on  to  the  town-hall,  in  the  corridor  of  which, 
awaiting  the  morrow's  services,  the  remains  were 
placed;  and  then  the  plaintive  song  died  away  into  a 
faint  refrain  which  seemed  to  sob  itself  to  sleep  and 
silence  in  the  congenial  darkness. 

Save  for  four  sentinels  in  uniform,  the  ex-President 
lay  alone,  distinguishable  only  by  that  last,  rude,  ill- 
fitting  garment  which,  even  though  it  be  of  rosewood 
and  of  satin,  feeds  not  the  wearer's  vanity,  nor,  if  of 
pine  and  fustian,  shames  his  pride.  The  dim  lights 
above  painted,  with  their  inky  shadows,  deeper  tints 
upon  the  rich  black  velvet  of  that  somber  tunic  in 
which  custom  arrays  the  retinue  of  captives  who  are 
swept  along  in  the  ceasless  triumph  of  Death,  the 
conquerer;  while  their  feeble  rays,  unable  to  reach  the 
groined  roof  of  the  hall,  seemed  writh  flickering  fin- 
gers to  beckon  to  the  gloom  that  crouched  behind  the 
lofty  arches,  and  to  invite  its  mute  and  dusky  presence 
to  share  their  solemn  vigils  around  the  catafalque  be- 
low. 

Early  with  the  morning  sun  came  baskets  and  boxes 
of  floral  decorations, — crosses,  crowns,  stars,  sickles, 
and  wreaths,  of  camelias  and  Marshal  Neil  rosebuds;  of 
«  -  23 


354  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

tuberoses,  of  wbeaten  sheaves,  and  of  evergreens;  while 
streamers  of  red,  white,  and  blue,  interwoven  with  ricli 
crape,  surrounded,  surmounted,  and  overhung  the 
coffin.  Its  velvet  richness  was  heightened  by  the 
gleam  of  its  silver  ornaments.  A  glass  plate  partially 
covered  it,  through  which  the  dead  could  be  seen  by 
the  living,  who,  from  sunrise  until  noon,  marched  by 
in  unbroken  procession. 

Then,  accompanied  by  the  military  guard  of  honor 
that  in  a  hollow  square  had  been  drawn  up  about  the 
bier,  the  ex-President  was  borne  to  the  handsome 
stone  Gothic  church  in  whose  erection  he  had  liberally 
aided;  into  whose  treasury  he  annually  and  punctu- 
ally paid  a  generous  pew-rent  for  the  spread  of  the 
gospel;  and  two  of  whose  illuminated  windows  he  had 
contributed  as  memorials  of  his  beloved  wife  and  de- 
ceased brother.  For  Brewster  had  remembered  his 
Creator  in  the  days  of  his  youth,  before  the  evil  days 
of  business  and  politics  had  come  to  engross  him  in 
the  creation  of  his  own  little  world  of  wealth  and  in- 
fluence, and  in  the  later  years,  it  is  to  be  feared, 
had  forgotten  Him,  so  far,  at  least,  as  to  think  that  He 
had  forgotten  Brewster,  and  was  taking  no  note  of 
his  schemes  and  his  conduct.  "  With  pure  heart  and 
humble  voice,"  Winifred,  however,  had  worshiped 
there,  and  the  coffin  rested  just  opposite  her  pew.  The 
pew  wras  draped  in  black,  and,  by  her  absence  rather 
than  by  his,  spoke  more  eloquently  of  the  desolation 
that  had  come  upon  that  household  than  the  preacher 
could  possibly  do,  hard  as  he  might  strive. 

The  requiem  was  played,  the  funeral   hymn    was 


THE  ENEMY  CONQUERS.  355 

sung,  and  the  preacher,  rising  and  reading  a  solemn 
litany  which  he  had  specially  compiled  from  the 
Scriptures,  began  his  discourse  with  a  quotation  from 
one  of  the  prophets,  making,  as  he  did  so,  a  slight 
change  in  the  original  text. 

f'The  dead  from  beneath  are  stirred  up  for  thee, 
even  all  the  chief  ones  of  the  earth.  All  they  shall 
speak  and  say  unto  thee.  Art  thou  also  become  weak 
as  we? — Art  thou  become  like  unto  us?" 

O,  impudent,  sly,  and  mighty  Death!  to  play  so 
sorry  a  trick  upon  the  great  and  eminent  man  that 
now  lies  helpless  before  us;  creeping  silently  up  be- 
hind him,  impolitely  looking-  over  his  shoulder,  and 
putting  a  full  and  final  stop  to  his  martial  sentences 
which,  at  the  expense  of  two  combatting  nations 
might  have  swollen  the  census  of  thy  domain!  have 
added  a  new  province  to  thy  realm !  O,  autocrat  of  an 
empire  "  whose  population  below  the  surface*of  the 
earth  far  exceeds  that  of  the  nations  above  it.  " 

Dost  thou  take  .this  revenge  upon  "  smart  men, "  be- 
cause they  act  as  if  thou  existed  not  in  all  this  uni- 
verse? Dost  thou  tire  of  their  insolence  at  last,  and, 
with  scarce  a  warning,  set  their  ears  to  ringing  and 
their  heads  to  whirling,  glaze  their  eyes,  snap  their 
thread  of  life,  and  lay  them  at  thy  feet — a  mass  of 
phosphates  and  of  gases'? 

It  would  thus  appear.  For  until  Death  smites 
them  and  hurries  them  beyond  the  bourne  whence 
they  have  never  yet  been  "  smart  "  enough  to  return, 
do  they  abate  a  tittle  of  their  pretensions,  an  atom  of 
their  ambition,  or  a  note  of  their  defiance  to  all  the 
powers  in  the  heavens  above,  or  the  earth  beneath. 


356  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

What  a  stare  of  surprise  and  bewilderment  he  must 
have  cast  about  him,  if  he  waked  in  a  world  where  his 
education  in  this  one  proved  to  be  quite  worthless! 
Where  he  found  that  like  an  idle  schoolboy  he  had 
been  wasting  his  time  in  stupid  pranks  or  useless 
study!  Where  none,  except  in  the  discharge  of  pub- 
lic duty,  cares  for  an  office!  Where  no  one  "  hurrahs 
for  the  party  "  when  its  leaders  misbehave;  where  no 
one  supports  an  unworthy  man,  because  he  is  a  "  work- 
er;" where  there  is  nothing  to  "manage  "and  no 
'  boys  "  ready  to  "  make  it  hot"  for  the  other  side! 

If  there  be  such  a  land,  which  few  politicians  be- 
lieve, he  will  have  to  sit  away  down  at  the  foot  of  the 
class  and  begin  his  new  career  by  learning  the  very 
alphabet  of  morals. 

"  God  would  think  twice  before  damning  a  person 
of  your  grace's  rank,"  said  the  courtier  to  the  French 
nobleman,  and  doubtless  those  of  our  politicians  who 
believe  in  a  God  cannot  imagine  his  ever  humiliating 
them  by  casting  contempt  upon  their  accomplishments 
in  the  art  of  government.  It  is  possible,  indeed,  that, 
on  their  arrival  there,  they  contemplate  suggesting 
some  improvements  in  the  divine  administration 
itself. 


THE  END.  357 


CHAPTEE   XXXIX. 

THE  END. 

SUBSTANTIALLY  this,  but  clothed  in  brave  and  elo- 
quent speech,  the  preacher  might,  could,  or  should 
have  said  to  the  people  gathered  in  that  church.  There 
were  present  there  some  of  the  most  distinguished 
party  leaders  in  the  land — many  of  them  striving  for 
the  success  this  dead  man  had  striven  for;  and,  ad- 
miring his  success,  were  more  envious  of  his  victory 
than  shocked  at  his  means  of  winning  it. 

In  the  train,  as  they  rode  along,  in  the  hotels,  this 
day,  and  on  their  way  to  the  church,  his  most  eminent 
rivals  or  their  representatives  had  already  begun  "fig- 
uring "  for  the  succession.  They  whispered  in  public 
places,  and  talked  in  low  tones  in  the  corners,  or  in 
their  bedrooms  at  the  hotels.  The  general  sense  of 
relief  which  his  departure  occasioned  to  his  numerous 
heirs-presumptive,  but  not  yet  apparent,  was  summed 
up  in  Mr.  Bunkery's  words: 

"  There  '11  be  no  second  or  third  term  nonsense  to 
bother  us,  that 's  one  comfort." 

"  The  old  man  managed  to  bring  things  about  pret- 
ty much  as  he  calculated  them,"  said  Eodney;  "but  I 
think  this  affair  was  not  down  on  the  bills." 


358  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

These  discussions  were  temporarily  interrupted  by 
the  opening  of  the  funeral  services. 

Seldom  before  had  an  occasion  so  rare  and  so  full  of 
fruitful  possibilities  fallen  to  the  prosperous  lot  of  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Underwood. 

His  down-sittings  and  his  up-risings,  his  going-out 
and  his  coming-in  before  the  Lord,  had  been  warmed 
and  softened  by  the  luxuries  of  a  city  pastorate,  a  rich 
congregation,  and  crowded  and  admiring  audiences. 
In  spite  of  these  temptations,  however,  he  had  never 
faltered  in  rebuking  the  sins  of  the  rich  and  the  great, 
who  lived  in  other  climes  and  other  times.  He  felt 
most  keenly  the  iniquities  of  the  Jews,  of  poor  and 
humble  sinners,  of  the  heathen  denied  the  privileges 
of  the  gospel.  He  did  not  spare  even  those  of  this 
age  and  country,  who  accumulate  unrighteous  wealth, 
and  diffused  throughout  his  congregation  a  comforta- 
ble abhorrence  of  the  trespasses  of  California  nabobs 
and  Wall  Street  operators,  who,  as  it  happened,  owned 
no  pews  in  his  sanctuary,  and  lacked  the  benefit  of  his 
teachings.  He  had  his  views,  too,  about  the  brutal 
statesmanship  of  Bismark,  the  tricky  politics  of  Bea- 
consfield,  and  the  stupid  ambition  of  MacMahon ;  but 
the  two  chief 'perils  he  dreaded  for  his  own  country, 
were  the  influence  of  the  Pope  and  the  undermining 
of  our  institutions  by  slandering  our  public  men; 
meaning  by  "our  public  men,"  the  leaders  of  his 
party. 

The  Eev.  Dr.  Underwood  had  always  felt  an  admira- 
tion for  Brewster,  and  had  by  several  years  anticipated 
the  National  Convention  in  nominating  him  for  the 


THE  EXD.  359 


presidency.  When  he  himself  was  subsequently  a 
candidate  for  the  chaplaincy  in  the  House,  Brewster 
was  his  principal  champion,  and  conspicuous  in  pro- 
curing him  that  situation;  but  it  was  probably  total 
depravity  which  led  Senator  Joslyn  to  say  that,  when- 
ever any  of  Brewster's  bills  were  pending,  Chaplain 
Underwood  always  besieged  the  throne  of  grace  with 
additional  fervor,  praying  the  Almighty  to  open  the 
eyes  of  His  servants,  that  they  might  do  justice  and 
judgment,  and  so  find  favor  in  His  sight;  and  that 
whenever  those  bills  passed,  the  reverend  gentleman  re-- 
turned heartfelt  thanks  that  their  minds  had  been  en- 
lightened, and  wisdom  given  them  from  on  high  to 
decide  aright. 

In  testifying  his  devotion  to  Brewster,  Dr.  Under- 
wood was  guilty  of  no  hypocrisy.  It  was  his  misfortune, 
not  his  fault,  that  one  of  his  spiritual  eyes  was  de- 
fective and  that  when  evil  approached  him  on  his 
blind  side,  he,  from  the  very  necessity  of  the  case, 
could  not  perceive  it.  He  was  not  a  man  to  betray 
his  Master  for  a  paltry  and  sordid  handful  of  silver. 
In  order  to  touch  hin>,  the  temptation  needed  to  be 
disguised  in  wrappings  of  patriotism,  offeree  of  char- 
acter, of  success,  of  generosity,  and  half  a  dozen  other 
envelopes  of  worth  and  virtue. 

Such,  very  briefly,  were  the  Rev.  Dr.  Underwood's 
qualifications  for  the  office  of  orator  and  oracle  at  the 
ex-President's  funeral. 

"This  fallen  giant,"  he  began  by  saying,  "once  moved 
erect  amongst  you.  You  have  seen  him  in  these  streets,  you  have 
spoken  with  him  in  his  home,  and  he  with  you,  in  yours.  You 


360  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

will  carry  hence  that  imige  of  himself  which  Death  has  left  you, 
and  lay  it  by  the  side  of  his  kindred.  Though  the  nation  was  al- 
ways bidding  him  come  up  higher  until  he  reached  the  place  of 
honor  which  it  reserves  for  those  deemed  worthy  of  its  omnipotent 
choice,  yet  he  never  forgot  his  home;  and  belonging,  as  he  did,  to 
this  congregation,  it  is  peculiarly  fitting  here  to  crown  him  with  a 
wreath  of  remembrance.11 

It  required  skillful  management  on  the  part  of  those 
who  had  scarcely  seen  Brewster  in  church  for  twenty 
years,  to  control  the  feelings  aroused  by  this  tribute 
to  his  piety.  This,  with  the  sensation  caused  by  the 
reference  to  Brewster  as  the  choice  of  the  people,  ex- 
cited an  audible  rustle  all  over  the  house. 

"A  life  so  crowded  forbids  me  in  the  short  time  allotted,  to  do 
him  justice,  and  to  furnish  that  key  to  his  character  which  his 
success  calls  for.  It  would  require  volumes  to  fully  tell  the  bead- 
roll  of  his  achievments.  Happily  in  this  presence  it  is  needless. 
He  has  made  a  mark  which  will  last  forever.  His  foot-prints  on 
the  sands  of  time  are  not  likely  soon  to  be  washed  away  by  the 
•waves  of  oblivion.  Governor,  Senator,  President!  What  remain- 
ed in  tha*^  life  so  full  of  success  but  to  be  gathered  like  a  shock  of 
corn  fully  ripe. 

"He  was  a  zealous  party  man;  some  have  even  said  that  he  was 
a  partisan  and  he  has  been  charged  with  violent  and  vindictive 
feeling  toward  his  political  opponents.*1 

This  mild  suggestion  that  Brewster  was  by  "  some  " 
suspected  of  partisanship,  and  that  others  went  so  far 
as  to  charge  him  with  violence  in  the  expression  of  his 
political  feelings,  might,  but  for  the  scene  and  occa- 
sion, have  been  mistaken  for  sarcasm;  but  the  preach- 
er gave  no  hint  of  it 

"He  fought  opinions  which  warred  against  h'e  convictions,  and 
raising  the 'black  flag1  announced 'no  quarter.'  But  this  does 
not  prove  that  he  was  malicious  or  vindictive  toward  misguid- 
ed men.  '' 


THE  END.  361 


There  were  those  who  conld  not  help  thinking  it  a 
doubtful  compliment  to  compare  Brewsterto  a  pirate, 
and  his  political  conflicts  to  piracy;  but  canst  thou 
draw  out  leviathan  with  a  hook,  bind  the  sweet  influ- 
ences of  the  Pleiades,  loose  the  bands  of  Orion,  or  set 
metes  and  bounds  to  the  funeral  oration? 

"Though  he  had  no  training  but  that  afforded  in  the  New  En- 
gland common  school  and  academy,  yet  his  faculty  of  mastering 
his  own  vigorous  Saxon  tongue;  of  making  those  around  him  un- 
derstand what  he  said,  and  know  what  he  meant;  of  handling  all 
questions  with  his  bare  and  sturdy  hands;  of  talking  with  such 
simplicity  that  every  adjective,  every  image,  every  mode  of  thought, 
perplexed  nobody  who  heard  him — this  was  his  art ;  this  was  his 
power.  He  never  chilled  or  blunted  the  force  of  his  style  by  pol- 
ishing it  to  pleasing  periods  of  soft,  smooth  words." 

And  those  who  heard  or  read  the  preacher's  praise,  and 
recalled  the  hard  names  which,  in  the  course  of  his  long 
and  useful  career,  Brewster  had  lavished  upon  those 
differing  from  him,  freely  assented  to  this  part,  of 
the  eulogy.  They,  at  least,  never  had  any  difficulty 
in  understanding  his  "  vigorous  Saxon." 

"  Of  course  there  are  scribes  on  the  press  and  Pharisees  in  the 
parties,  who  ask  and  expect  something  like  perfection  in  our  pub- 
lic men,  and  who,  when  they  find  spots  and  blemishes  in  them, 
stand  aloof  and  say  with  self-righteous  scorn :  '  I  am  holier  than 
thou.'  To  these  flabby  and  fastidious  temperaments  the  rugged 
and  shaggy  manhood  of  this  sfalwart  masterpiece  was  a  perpetual 
irritation  and  offense.  In  their  super-nice  and  fantastical  micro- 
scopes, they  overlook  the  sterling  fiber  of  such  a  nature  as  his, 
and  call  him  '.an  unmannerly  knave  for  bringing  his  slovenly  and 
unhandsome  '  politics  '  betwixt  the  wind  '  and  their  sham  nobility. 
Consider  this!  that  when  greed  has  held  out  golden  opportunity, 
and  asked  conscience  and  moral  sense  to  be  'dumb,  and  solicited 
the  loan  of  great  names  to  schemes  which  would  put  money  in 
the  purse,  and  that  many  came  from  the  test  smutched  with  the 


362  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

finger-marks  of  dishonest  schemes,  this  man  was  one  of  the  few 
who  never  took  ajjribe,  nor  put  his  name  upon  Satan's  pay-roll." 

And  some  of  the  audience  thought:  "  Dear  me  ! 
Why  should  he?  He  was  already  worth  a  million  of 
dollars!" 

"This  is  no  common  occasion,"  he  continued,  "on  which  so 
mighty  a  pillar  of  state  has  fallen.  It  is  a  calamity  not  to  be 
measured  by  ordinary  events,  and  is  as  wide  and  as  broad  as  the 
land  itself.  In  his  disinterested  work  for  his  country  he  knew  not 
how  to  spare  himself.  When  he  was  smitten,  his  every  nerve  was 
tense  with  patriotism,  every  throb  of  his  heart  beat  full  and  strong 
for  the  land  he  loved  so  well.  His  country  first,  his  party  next, 
himself  last, — this  was  the  grand  order  and  gradation  of  his  loy- 
alty. And  though  no  assassin's  bullet  slew  him  in  the  flush  of  his 
greatness,  yet  who  shall  say  that,  giving  himself  without  reserve 
to  his  country,  he  did  not  sacrifice  life  itself  on  the  altar  of  his  own 
patriotism?  It  was  in  the  discharge  of  public  duty  that  death 
found  him,  and  took  him  from  his  work.  But  though  he  is  gone, 
let  not  your  hearts  be  troubled !  God  still  lives,  and  he  will  raise 
up  another  leader  for  this  afflicted  people.'' 

With  these  words  he  ceased  speaking.  And  while 
each  Senator,  and  Representative,  and  Governor,  and 
ex-Governor  present  calmed  his  troubled  heart,  and 
mourned  his  sad  loss,  and  wondered  if  Providence 
would  raise  him  up  to  comfort  the  bereaved  nation, 
and  was  "  figuring  "  out  the  probabilities  of  such  an  in- 
terposition in  its  behalf,  another  hymn  was  sung,  the 
coffin  was  borne  to  the  hearse,  and  the  long  line  of 
carriages  began  wending  its  way  to  the  grave. 

As  Mr.  Israel  Stratton  passed  out  of  the  door,  he 
felt  a  slight  pressure  on  his  arm,  and,  looking  around, 
saw  Leonard  Carroll. 

"Come  in  my  carriage,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 


THE  END.  363 


piloting  him  through  the  fresh,  heavy- falling  snow  to 
his  coupe  standing  at  a  distant  corner. 

The  procession  formed  slowly,  as  processions  always 
do,  and  while  awaiting  their  turn  to  fall  into  line,  the 
two  gentlemen  sat  talking. 

•  "  How  death  does  sweep  away  all  distinctions,"  said 
Carroll;  "it  is  a  radical  communist.  It  puts  the  good 
man  on  a  level  with  the  bad  one.  Once  they  are 
fairly  in  their  coffins,  you.  can  not  tell  them  apart." 

Mr.  Stratton  smiled  briefly,  and  said :  "  Yes,  there  's 
a  good  deal  more  to  be  got  out  of  the  public  obitu- 
ary than  is  generally  supposed.  /  kept  thinking 
how  our  clerical  friend  was  disproving  the  definition 
of  gratitude — a  lively  sense  of  favors  yet  to  come." 

"  Perhaps  he  has  faith  that  our  old  friend  Brewster 
is  to  have  as  much  influence  elsewhere  as  he  did  here," 
replied  Carroll;  "however,!  feel  a  certain  consolation 
for  the  loss  of  such  statesmen,  in  the  thought  that  they 
are  slowly,  and  at  their  appointed  time,  passing  away; 
though  I  suppose  the  race  itself  won't  die  out." 

"Not  immediately,"  said  Mr.  Stratton;  "  they  are 
'  battle-born,'  as  the  saying  is — war-begotten,  and  will 
last  awhile  longer.  They  belong  to  a  past  age.  They 
drive  the  party  coach  and  crack  the  party  whip,  but 
one  day  they  will  wake  up  to  find  their  vehicles  out 
-of  date,  more  scientific  methods  of  government  lo- 
comotion in  vogue,  and  their  occupation  gone." 

"  But  I  see  no  signs  of  a  -new  party  or  the  disap- 
pearance of  the  old  parties,"  said  Carroll. 

"  We  want  no  new  parties,"  said  Mr.  Stratton,  em- 
phatically, "  the  old  ones  supply  every  need.  I  believe 


364  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

in  parties,  and,  to  some  extent,  in  the  party  machinery. 
Parties  are  fire  and  water,  bitter  enemies,  but  making 
the  steam  which  keeps  the  nation  moving.  The  mass 
of  people  must  belong  to  parties;  they  will  belong  to 
parties,  and  go  wherever  they  are  led.  What  we  need, 
and  what  we  are  to  have,  is  a  body  of  independent 
voters,  owing  nothing  to  either  party,  and,  except  as 
they  govern  with  moderation  or  with  violence,  fair- 
ly or  corruptly,  caring  nothing  for  them.  These  vo- 
ters will  be  a  strong,  unobtrusive,  judicial  body,  that 
the  party  in  power  will  be  perfectly  sure  to  hear  from, 
whenever  it  perverts  the  government  into  lottery  priz- 
es for  a  few  of  its  lucky  ticket-holders,  or  becomes 
extravagant,  or  neglectful,  or  obnoxious  to  men  who 
think  a  wise  and  honest  government  superior  to  a  par- 
ty triumph.  They  will  free  their  minds  of  cant,  and 
refuse  to  believe  this  government  so  much  a  failure 
that  either  half  of  its  voting  millions  is  bent  on  its 
destruction." 

"I  believe,"  said  Carroll;  "there  is  growing  up  just 
such  a  body  of  men  who  are  thinking  of  these  things 
and  are  crystalizing  more  and  more  every  year." 

"  No  doubt  of  it,  no  doubt  of  it  at  all,"  said  Mr. 
Stratton ;  "  what  is  the  use  of  getting  disgusted,  unless 
something  practical  comes  of  it?  We  are  going  to  be 
a  strong,  wise  nation,  before  we  consent  to  expire. 
I  believe  in  the  country  and  its  future.  I  am  an  old 
man,  and  old  men  are  apt  to  be  over-impressed  with 
the  comparative  virtue  of  the  days  when  they  had  the 
direction  of  affairs;  but  I  see  improvement;  especially 
in  this  disposition  on  the  part  of  a  large  class  of  men 


THE  END.  365 


to  make  their  influence  felt  in  politics,  without  weak- 
ening themselves  by  asking  or  granting  any  favors. 
Like  all  sovereigns,  the  sovereign  people  needs  guid- 
ance, and  the  men  I  speak  of  are  destined  to  become 
the  power  behind  the  throne,  greater  than  the  throne 
itself.  They,  and  they  only,  will  introduce  perma- 
nent reforms.  This  revolt  will  call  for  eloquence, 
enthusiasm  and  courage,  though — that  will  not  be 
afraid  of  sneers  and  abuse  from  party  men  who  will 
die  hard.  You  can  not,  without  a  desperate  strug- 
gle, take  away  from  a  large  body  of  men  their  means 
of  livelihood,  whether  it  be  an  established  church,  or 
an  established  system  of  seeking  and  holding  office. 
It  will  need  the  best  intellect  of  the  country,  the  wit, 
the  oratory,  the  keenness,  the  common  sense,  of  our 
best  men.  For  instance,"  said  Mr.  Stratton,  looking  sly- 
ly at  Carroll;  "if  the  same  talent  which  points  out 
so  acutely  the  Mistakes  of  the  Patriarchs  could  be 
got  to  point  out  our  mistakes,  which  are  probably 
quite  as  serious  as  those  the  patriarchs  made, — " 

"  O  I  must  beg  of  you,"  said  Carroll,  stammering  and 
laughing  a  little,  "  that  is  hardly  fair.  That  was  a 
youthful  folly.  I  have  outgrown  that  sort  of  thing, 
I  hope.  Besides,"  he  added,  by  way  of  further  apol- 
ogy* "  it  was  really  very  profitable." 

"  All  I  mean  is,"  said  Mr.  Stratton,  "  that  there  is 
enough  intellect,  in  the  pulpit  and  out  of  it,  to  provide 
us  with  an  entire  new  code  of  political  morals,  and  to 
make  it  impossible  for  men  like  him  at  the  head  of 
this  procession  to  furnish  such  a  text  for  such  a  ser- 
mon." 


366  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

They  were  now  passing  Brews ter's  house,  with  the 
ruins  of  the  mill  on  the  right.  A  long  silence  en- 
sued. 

"  Poor  girl!"  said  Carroll,  with  a  pang  of  remem- 
brance; "do  you  know  she  always  seemed  to  me  a 
changeling.  As  his  daughter,  I  could  never  fairly  ac- 
count for  her." 

"  O,  she  was  genuine  in  every  sense  of  the  word," 
said  Mr.  S.tratton,  softly;  "  I  hope,"  he  added,  in  kind, 
paternal  tones,  "  she  will  yet  be  as  near  as  she  is  dear 
to  me." 

"How  is  she?"  asked  Carroll,  slowly,  after  another 
silence,  and  an  inner  struggle  which  Mr.  Stratton  had 
unconsciously  incited. 

«  Better." 

"  Does  she  know — this  last?" 

"  Yes,  she  guessed  it.  The  strange  thing  is  that  the 
shock  seemed  to  revive  her  mental  powers;  she  has 
improved  since,  but  she  is  not  here;  it  was  not  deemed 
prudent." 

The  storm  did  not  abate.  Low>  heavy  gray  clouds 
went  sweeping  majestically  by,  as  if  they  too  had  been 
summoned  from  afar  to  share  in  these  ceremonies. 
They,  too,  brought  offerings  for  bedecking  his  bier  and 
grave.  With  nature's  lavishness  they  cast  their  white 
blossoms,  not  only  upon  the  dead  but  upon  the  living, 
upon  the  hearse  and  the  carriages,  upon  the  spectators 
and  the  mourners.  They  scattered  them  as  gently  up- 
on the  stone  pave  and  the  granite  factories  as  upon  the 
heavy  black  plumes  on  the  hearse,  where  with  chaste 
witchery  they  transformed  the  swarth  feathers  as  of  the 


THE  END.  367 


death-croaking  raven,waving  above  hira,to  the  plumage 
of  the  death-singing  swan.  They  bestrewed  these  deli- 
cate tributes  upon  the  bearskin  caps  of  the  soldiery, 
changing  into  symbols  of  peace,  those  swaggering 
but  harmless  ornaments  of  war.  From  their  hoarded 
treasures  of  the  snow,  they  threw  swirling  garlands 
upon  cornice,  spire,  and  tower,  until  the  whole  city 
was  shrouded  in  that^  white  omnipresence.  With 
more  than  loyal  bounty  they  laid  along  the  way,  where, 
for  the  last  time,  this  deposed  and  prostrate  ruler  was 
to  pass,  a  soft  carpet  upon  which  the  horses  stepped 
with  the  silence  of  sculptured  steeds,  and  the  wheels 
turned  with  the  noiselessness  of  mimic  vehicles. 

In  the  calm,  soft  twilight  which  the  snow  had  con- 
jured from  the  murky  clouds,  common  things  were 
changed  into  something  rich  and  strange.  The  black 
cloths  of  the  hearse-horses  were  embroidered  with 
down;  plebeian  jades,  caparisoned  with  the  big,  soft 
flakes,  were  changed  into  milk-white  barbs  of  noblest 
breed,  and  the  coarse  garments  of  their  drivers  into 
costly  liveries  of  far.  The  sides  of  the  carriages 
gleamed  with  deeper  ebony  in  contrast  with  the  sheeted 
crystals,  with  which,  as  in  delicate  mosaic,  they  were 
interlaid ;  and  even  the  umbrellas  and  street  lanterns, 
fluffy  with  the  softness,  were  held  aloft  like  gigantic 
lilies  and  camelias,  in  honor  of  his  name  and  presence. 

The  bells  from  the  church  towers,  hidden  by  the 
storm,  gave  tongue,  as  from  choirs  invisible,  to  super- 
natural requiems.  In  the  atmosphere  dense  with  the 
feathery  shower,  neither  end  of  the  funeral  train  was 
visible  to  the  spectator.  In  deepest  silence,  broken  only 


368  A  FAMOUS  VICTORY. 

by  the  dirges  of  the  bands,  this  endless  column,  emerg- 
ing from  the  unseen  and  the  unknown  in  the  distance, 
passed  silently  again  into  the  veil  of  clouds  and  snow, 
which  wrapped  it  in  garments  of  gray  oblivion,  and 
withdrew  it  gently  from  eye  and  ear  into  the  unseen 
and  unknown  beyond.  It  was  a  drama  in  miniature  of 
the  abounding  and  eager  life, — that "  noise  between  two 
silences," — whose  shard  was  carried  in  the  whitened 
hearse. 

Its  peace  and  calm  were  a  benediction  upon  the 
dead,  and  a  sermon  of  diviner  meaning  than  that  which, 
with  its  blare  of  indiscriminate  praise,  had  fallen  upon 
dulled  consciences  in  the  church.  It  cast  its  ermine 
upon  the  shoulders  of  injustice,  in  token  that  he  who 
wore  it  would,  in  this  world,  work  injustice  no  more 
forever;  and  upon  his  grave,  and  upon  that  of  the  lowly 
woman,  freshly  heaped  up  near  it,  and  upon  the  congre- 
gation of  the  dead  that  had  ceased  to  suffer  wrong  or 
do  it,  it  lay  like  a  broad  white  mantle  of  charity,  cov- 
ering a  multitude  of  sins. 


/.Z 


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